More Than Words
by roseeyes
Summary: One-shots following the Inktober 2019 prompts. Most will explore 'The Whipping Boy' and 'Hey You' but standalone stories will also be included. Multiple genres and pairings.
1. Prompt 1 Ring My Bell

The first sound I learned was a woman's voice.

Women were to be listened to and obeyed, always without question. Everyone knew men existed to please women, to provide them with whatever they needed or wanted, down to the most flamboyant whims. Men were to be seen and not heard, something pleasant to look upon and nothing more:

Boys naturally followed their example.

From a young age, we learned of our mistresses' greatness. Without them, we would not have life, no place to belong. Evil men – those who still had voices – wanted to take them away, to use them for their tears and guilty pleasures. They would kill us to get to the maidens; they had no love for us–

At least, that's what the Voiceless said.

Though we could not speak, language wasn't denied us, for our mistresses granted us both theirs and one of our own. As soon as our throats birthed intelligible sounds, the women taught us their words, beautiful, invisible things almost impossible to grasp. The Voiceless ones also taught us, weaving their silent tongue in time with the pretty sounds, instructing long after our mistresses left.

The second sound I remember – and learned to fear – was ringing.

Each of us were given a bell at birth, tiny things the women wore around their wrists. The bells were good, for they told us when the maidens were pleased. They rang for small things, such as fetching items or for summoning us; they rang for terrifying things, too, when we lost our voices or received punishment.

The bells rang most, though, when our mistresses loved us.

I never knew to question that sound, what the women did to us. When my voice returned and no one else's did, I received the lashes willingly, believing when they said I was rebellious. I swallowed my terror when they loved me, focusing on loving them back, on loving that sound. Fighting back tears, I willed myself to be lovable, to stifle the fire building in my chest:

The fire that made my mother hate me.

One day, they gave me a mistress of my own, but she was nothing like the others. Small and kind, she didn't hate me for my voice, for what happened when I became angry. She always spoke softly, loving my strange hair and warmth:

More than anything, she never rang my bell.

The metal remained cold and dead at her side, forgotten while she taught me her words and pleaded I talk with her. These conversations always occurred secretly, in her chambers away from prying eyes, though somehow the others found out; they always knew, no matter how careful we were. The women blamed me for corrupting her and the men beat me, reducing me to a bloody mess. Even in my dreams, I could hear the clacking of her tears on the stone floor, all while she cried a name I wasn't meant to know. She refused to stop our visits, even when they tried taking my voice twice more.

I knew then that I had to take her away.

Yukina rejected my plan initially, terrified of what would happen to me. After pleading with her for days, however, she finally gave in, agreeing that fleeing was our best course of action. We were no nothing more than children but knew the customs in this land were wrong, and wanted to escape at all costs.

The price for failure was far greater than we could have imagined.

Strong hands on my body, beating me within an inch of my life. No option remained but sending me away, for the old methods didn't work. I couldn't return their love, and my voice refused to die. They sent me away in an iron cage, my bell in the hands of another. The maidens swore I'd never see her again but I knew that wasn't true: I vowed that when I was older, stronger than any of the dead-eyed Voiceless, I would return for her. Yukina's pain wouldn't be in vain–

And my bell would never ring again.

AN: Inktober Prompt 1 – Ring. _The Whipping Boy_, Hiei's POV


	2. Prompt 2 Mindless Self Indulgence

He knew.

"Azumi."

I shut the door softly but the sound resounded, loud as shattering glass and my mother's screams. The call came in the middle of an outing, one Shuichi planned with the meticulousness I'd come to expect. Of course he noticed my panic, the fear I'd tried so desperately to hide; he wouldn't leave me, even though he didn't know where we were going. Threats, evasion, even blunt meanness had no effect. Shuichi made no protests when we boarded the Chuo line, accepted my silence without hesitation. Even when we reached the sanatorium, he remained unmoved, keeping his opinion to himself when we ran up the mountain and into the facility.

Only when we reached her room did his calm mask crack.

I squeezed my eyes closed, sitting on the genkan's lip to unfasten the ribbon at my ankles, the 'clunk' of the pumps falling to the floor impossibly loud. Shuichi knew: he'd seen mom's empty sleeve, heard her raving about monsters that weren't there. He listened while Dr. Fuye outlined her worsening condition, noted the same implications. When mom screamed for me, he waited outside the door, moving only when fear turned to rage upon not recognizing me.

My cheek still stung from her slap.

"Azumi?"

I flinched at the hand on my shoulder, body shifting to bat away his arm and strike before logical thought returned Shuichi didn't balk at the heel palm stopping inches from his nose; he didn't even blink. No, he simply remained at my side, emerald eyes warm, comforting–

Concerned.

A sharp inhale I pulled away, offending hand darting behind my back. "Sorry." The mumble barely reached my ears. Clearing my throat, I took a generous breath, daring to glance his way. "Thank you for going with me today." A smile forced its way onto my lips, a habit several years in the making. "Sorry for ruining your plans."

"No apology is necessary." He made no effort to smile back, to offer anything other than that too-serious stare. Thoughts vast and various flitted behind that green and I swallowed hard, willing him to say something, _anything_–

But he kept silent, gaze never leaving mine.

I shivered, staring at my knees. "Go home, Shuichi."

He started at this, eyes widening. "What?"

"You heard me." The words fell like acid from my tongue, words I immediately regretted. A puff of air and my hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind my hair, a hand I realized too late shook. "Look, I appreciate everything but you don't have to do this."

A red brow rose even as studied me, lids narrowing. "Do what?"

"This!" I gestured wildly between us, aware of the tilt in my voice, the slow but sure closing of my throat. "You saw everything, right? You saw mom, how she–" Tell-tale moisture stung my eyes and I cursed, shaking my head. "I don't need your pity."

I prayed he would leave, just retreat and let me lick my wounds:

I should have known better.

Before I knew what was happening, he swept me into his arms and stood, stepping out of his shoes before carrying me down the hall.

"S-Shuichi!" His steps remained sure as we passed my bedroom, when I hit his shoulder once, twice. "Put me down! Put me _down_, I said!"

But he didn't. His hold held fast, even though I knew bruised skin lurked beneath that thick sweater.

"No!" To my surprise, he stopped before entering the living room, allowing me draw both knees close. "Not there."

Normally such a demand would have made him chuckle, but today he simply dipped his head, wayward hair tickling my nose. "Where?"

I couldn't tell him why the living room was off-limits right now: the LPs, the record player, the unlit candle still smelling of sandalwood. Her–

They all reminded me of her.

A less than ladylike sound and I deflated, turning into his chest. "The kitchen."

Shuichi turned left without hesitation, silent steps carrying us into a room barely big enough for necessary appliances, much less the table I'd squeezed into the far corner. After settling me into the chair nearest the threshold, he set to work, pulling two glasses from the overhead cabinet before turning to the refrigerator. Before I knew it, he'd set a glass of chilled water and orange juice on the table, silently offering whichever I wanted.

I reached for the water and took a generous sip, shivering as the cold liquid his my stomach. Shuichi took his glass and turned away, rummaging in yet another cabinet before coming back to the table, a half-eaten sleeve of crackers in-hand.

He knew me entirely too well.

"I don't want to talk." The statement came out garbled, mostly guesswork around the crumbling saltines in my mouth.

"That's fine." Shuichi drank from his own glass, offering a kind smile before moving to the opposite chair. "I'm sure there are other snacks lying around, if those will not suffice."

Before I knew it, a chuckle bubbled in my throat, forcing me to cough up cracker crumbs. The water thankfully washed them down but not before I caught the hint of worry in his eye. "Been snooping in my kitchen during practice?"

He shrugged and took another sip of orange juice, though he didn't deny the accusation.

The laughter faded in degrees before dying completely, nose wrinkling with its passing. "Please don't tell anyone." I whispered, counting the wood grains in the tabletop. "She's been through enough."

Normally, he would agree immediately, tell me exactly what I needed to hear. Yet, this time, Shuichi remained silent, didn't nod or give any kind of verbal encouragement. Rather, he set his half-filled glass aside, giving me his full attention.

"It was a long time ago, when I was ten. I–" My throat squeezed shut without permission and I took a deep breath, hands tightening to fists on the table. "It was my fault; she got hurt and it was my fault. No one believed her, so they put her away. She wanted to go away, back to before, when everything was normal and monsters weren't real." Tears threatened again but I wouldn't break, not in front of him.

I wouldn't let him see me fall apart.

Finally, he spoke. "Would it help if you hit me again?"

His gaze never wavered though he nodded to my fists, which even then trembled against the wood. "I would serve as a poor stand-in for one of your coworkers but, if such a thing would help, you can hit me as much as you'd like."

"What? No!" I ducked my head, hiding my hands beneath the table. Biting my tongue until I tasted blood, I allowed the pain to ground me, to halt the sorrow building in my chest. "I didn't mean to hit you–"

But he would hear none of it. "Azumi, look at me."

I shook my head, standing only to turn to the cabinet beside the refrigerator. There had to be more snacks here; apples, peanut butter, something.

_Anything_ to keep from looking at him.

A knowing hand pulled at my arm, turning with a feather touch. Shuichi's face had shifted once more into the mask from before, removed and unsmiling. His eyes too held little emotion, though warmth clung at the edges, battling with whatever resided in that sharp mind.

"There was a time when mother took ill." He said, the words quiet and detached, as if coming from somewhere far away. "I was fourteen, and the doctors determined her sickness to be This was before she met my stepfather – mother was the only family I had."

I swallowed, focusing on the braided folds of his white sweater, hair spread across the fabric like freshly-spilled blood. "What did you do?"

He chuckled, a dark sound from low in his chest. "Quite a few foolish things I wish not to recall." The mirth dwindled and the mask returned once more. "All of them were futile though, a boy's attempts to save his mother."

"But," I bit my lip, teeth worrying at loose skin. "Your mom's alive and well; you introduced me to her–"

"Yes, because fate had other plans." He pulled at the flesh, gently extracting it from my jaws. "My actions did not save her life."

I shifted when he didn't remove his hand from my face, calloused fingertips tracing my cheek. "So, what's the moral of the story? Do a lot of stupid things and maybe God will take pity on me, might even fix her mind?"

He didn't bite at my joke, wouldn't even pretend amusement. "No." Those fingers toyed with a length of hair before brushing it past my shoulder, gaze dark as the moss of the deepest forests. "The 'moral of the story' is to not overthink things when you find yourself in crisis."

My head tipped to the side, brow furrowing. "So what, just don't think?"

"Exactly." Here the hint of a smile appeared. "Simply let your brain rest. Allow yourself to be mindless, thoughtless, if only for an instant."

"Like right now?"

A definite smile and he pulled away, arms falling to his sides. "Yes, right now."

Still, I hesitated. Could I turn off my brain, just 'go with the flow'? Part of me balked at the idea, sure the world would fall apart if I made myself stop, even if for a moment. Still, hearing such a thing from Mr. Wonderful set those fears to rest, leaving me a glimmer of hope.

Was it really okay just to let go?

Sensing my unease, he retreated a step, mask slipping a degree more. "Azumi–"

I closed the space between us, rising on my tiptoes and pressing my mouth to his. Shuichi stiffened – I could feel his wide-eyed stare – but my body refused to obey. Logic fled, despite his stillness at the kiss.

Finally when I pulled back for air, I dared to look up at him. Shuichi appeared mostly unchanged from our exchange, the only notable difference being a sudden heaviness in his eyelids. Perfect posture erect, he parted slightly swollen lips, as though at a loss for words. "I believe I suggested giving your mind a break?"

For all his bravado, he sounded as breathless as I, only wrapped in a prettier package. "Yeah. . .?"

He raised a brow, no doubt questioning my sanity. "And this is what you came up with?"

Rather than answer, I grabbed his sweater, pulling him down until our lips met. Unlike what happened in cinema and books, there was nothing innocent about this kiss. Urged by his instructions and a need I couldn't quite place, I forced him back first one step, then another, sucking and biting at his mouth all the while. For his part, Shuichi didn't fight, though he didn't exactly participate, either. His arms remained raised, as if he didn't quite know what to do with his hands, though he never tried loosen my hold.

When his back hit the wall, though, everything changed.

Shuichi gasped as I bit his lip, slipping my tongue inside the hot cavern. He tasted just like the juice he'd drank moments before, sweet with an underlying bitterness. Sweater bunching between my fingers, I pressed further into him, willing him to understand what I wanted, that I _needed_ this.

A sound escaped him, the beginnings of a groan, and I knew he needed it, too.

Hands traveling to his hair, I gave an experimental tug, never stopping the attentions on his mouth. A moan that couldn't be described as anything but wanton slipped out and he began to slide, legs giving out with each sound and pass of the tongue. "A-Azumi–!"

But I stopped him with a well-timed nip, fingers twining through all that red to brush the nape of his neck. He stiffened again but for an entirely different reason, something close to a whimper humming against my lips as he allowed me tilt his head back further.

When he finally hit the ground, however, the sounds stopped and his hands found my wrists with lightning speed, pulling me back with minimal effort. "We must stop this."

I admired him for a moment, taking in his disheveled hair and labored breaths, mouth swollen from kissing, nearly matching the hue of his flushed face.

Were there always flecks of gold in his eyes?

He pulled my arms back further even as I leaned forward, leaving him to support almost all of my weight. "You said not thinking is good every once in a while."

A sigh rippled from his chest and suddenly he looked tired; so tired. "Yes, I did."

Pivoting further still, I smirked as his lips parted on their own. "Maybe you should take your own advice sometime, Mr. Minamino."

He let me kiss him this time, hands losing their hold only to press at my back, my ribs, my hair, anywhere they could reach.

That afternoon, I learned just how many sounds could come from his throat.

A/N: Inktober prompt 2 – Mindless. _Hey You_, Azumi's POV.


	3. Prompt 3 Bait the Trap

"This is a baaaaad idea, you guys–"

"And I'm tellin' ya you're worrying too much!"

I sighed, an action I quickly regretted as Yusuke pulled at the corset's ribbons. "Remind me again why we decided on this plan of action?"

"Ah fox boy, not you too!" My cousin sucked at his teeth, peeking over my bare shoulder. "Hold your bosom up, it's starting to slip."

Another sigh and I did as instructed, lifting the hollowed melon halves to their anatomically correct places. Wool pricked at my skin from inside the rinds – a precaution to both absorb moisture and ensure the decrepit fruit would hold firm – but I ignored the sensation, far too focused on learning to breath as the device tightened at my chest and stomach. Yusuke went so far as to even dig his knee into my spine, testing the limits of the undergarment–

As well as my patience.

"You heard the villagers yesterday: two women disappeared last week, both pretty virgins." He drifted to my front, adjusting first one melon then the other beneath black silk and whalebone until he was satisfied, a grin revealing a singular fang. "What better way to lure out the bad guys than to give 'em another helpless girl?"

"But why does it have to be _the prince_?" Kuwabara pressed, not quite sure whether or not to look at me in my undressed state. Aside from the torture device, layers of underskirts covered my legs, and beneath them silk stockings and satin slippers adorned my feet. The next step in the transformation lay draped across a nearby bush: a coral gown with a tight bodice and flowing skirt, complete with a large belt woven with gold thread. Gemstones lined the neckline of the gown – a neckline too low for my liking – and trickled down the bodice, ending abruptly at the waist. A lady's dress, made of the finest material available in the area.

One I was sure I couldn't fit into.

"Well, Hiei was my first choice but he turned me down flat." Yusuke glanced at my companion who reclined against a tree trunk, fingertips resting atop his sword hilts. Upon seeing my current state, disgust wrinkled his nose and he turned away, arms crossing over his chest. My cousin turned, giving the knight a sly look. "I would've asked you but, no offense, you'd make an ugly girl."

Kuwabara appeared unsure how to react to this so after two failed attempts to speak, he groaned, raking gloved fingers through his pompadour. "But what about _you_, Urameshi? Why didn't _you_ volunteer?" Here the human sneered, a chuckle bubbling in his throat. "Afraid they'd run away scared?"

"That's never happened the other times I've done this, so no."

That garnered all of our attention. Kuwabara's laughter died and he stared as Yusuke gathered the dress from the bushes, commanding me to stand. "Y-you mean you've dressed up as a, a–"

"Woman? Yeah, plenty of times." The Oni prince's reply came unhurriedly, muted somewhat by the fabric he pulled over my head. "How else do you think I gave Hokushin the slip so much?"

Kuwabara truly appeared at a loss for words, though Hiei snorted, a smirk curling his lips as my arms slid through snug sleeves. "Then why does Kurama have to play the role of a weak woman now?"

"Well, the taste in women here is different than it is back home." Yusuke mused, pulling my hair free only to frown, tugging this way and that at the bodice's collar. "While I'd be a big hit in Tourrin, Gandarans prefer thin, frail-looking damsels. I don't fit the bill." Here he pushed the melon halves together carefully, giving me the illusion of cleavage. "Tsk! We're going to have to do something about your hair though. Ever painted your face before?"

I raised a brow as he set to braiding my hair with quick fingers, twine held between his teeth. "No, I have not."

"Don't worry, you'll love it." He grinned, fastening first one braid, then another. "Thank God you're a pretty boy! Bit of rouge and lip stain and you'll be good to go."

"And where are we supposed to find all that?" Kuwabara demanded, finally recovering his voice. "In case you didn't know, peasants don't wear cosmetics!"

"You're in luck." Yusuke's hand disappeared into his plaid, rummaging about only to produce a minuscule bag. Out poured tiny containers filled with powder of varying color, rouge, wrapped coal sticks, as well as a few jars of lip paint. "Pick your poison."

Kuwabara's eyes widened even as I chose the necessary items, resigned to my fate. "Why do you have all that?"

"Always be prepared, right? I never leave home without it."

Hiei shook his head, arms crossing over his chest. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Honestly? Since we first met – Kurama's always looked like a girl."

I shot him a dirty look, half a mind to upturn all of his cosmetics. "What shall we do once the kidnappers appear?"

"Beat the snot out of 'em and demand where they're taking the girls, what else? With any luck, these are the guys we're looking for – they might even have the princess."

Hiei leveled him with a look but did not speak, content with watching this event unfold.

When my cousin procured a horse-tail brush and dipped it in the powder, I closed my eyes as instructed, though not without one final question. "And what, pray tell, will we do if they do not take your bait?"

"What, don't think you're cute enough?" Yusuke's laugh rang in my ears, the only companion in the darkness as the brush touched my cheek. "Don't worry, fox boy, not even uncle will recognize you by the time I'm done – you'll be the prettiest girl in the kingdom."

A/N: Inktober prompt 3 – Bait. _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV


	4. Prompt 4 Freak Freeze

"Truth? Are you kidding me?"

Yusuke's protest rang throughout the Kuwabara house, reaching the street below through the open window. Night air tugged at the white curtains, flapping fabric punctuating the silence left in the wake of Kurama's choice.

The red-head quirked a brow, raising a steaming earthenware cup to his lips. "That's what I said, yes."

After Yusuke returned from the demon world and life fell into a somewhat normal state, they agreed to meet once a month, if for no other reason than to keep in-touch and enjoy one another's company. Hiei, of course, took no part in this arrangement, though they still saw him from time-to-time, on the odd day when work with the border patrol brought him to the human realm. So, on the last day of every month, the group met at one of their homes to enjoy an evening together, one filled with laughter and good feeling.

Tonight, the meeting place happened to be the Kuwabaras.

And group truth or dare the main attraction.

"But _truth_, fox boy? That's such a–" Here the former detective bit his tongue, conscious of the woman at Kuwabara's side. Though he'd been adamant in them drinking like 'real men', Yukina prepared homemade goodies and tea, as was her custom. Even now, the Koorime sat with her back to Kuwabara's bed, nibbling a cookie crusted with just the right amount of sugar. Finally, after running through several different choice phrases, he concluded "_pansy_ move."

If Yukina found his use of the flower odd, she didn't question it.

"Urameshi!" Kuwabara hissed, regretting for the tenth time that night that Keiko was stuck at work.

"What?" He barked back, hands flying to his knees, almost upsetting the tea at his foot. "Don't tell me you agree with him, Kuwabara! What's fun about _truth_?" Yusuke cringed at the word, disgust evident in his wrinkled nose and curled lips.

"Truth is necessary between comrades, especially those who have experienced much together." Kurama's words remained soft, the voice of reason as he reclined further against the wall. "It is a good thing to know the hidden thoughts of those you trust."

A too-loud snort and Yusuke took a swig of tea, spilling a drop on his green-tee in the process. "All right, so pop the question. Let's get on with it so we can get back to the good stuff!"

Kuwabara accepted a cookie from Yukina with a smile, blush tinting his cheeks as her fingers brushed his. Kurama watched the display in silence, lids drooping at some unknown emotion.

Finally: "What is your deepest fear involving your lover?"

Yusuke blinked before letting loose a less-than-genteel sound, crossing both arms over his chest. "All that build-up and you ask something like that? What next, we gonna hide under the blankets with flashlights and tell ghost stories?"

Green eyes narrowing, Kurama propped an arm on his raised knee, cup dangling from sure fingers. "Answer the question. This game was your idea, was it not?"

The current predicament was a far cry from moments before, when the former spirit detective dared each of them to stand before the open window and scream 'Bonzai!' into the night, heads adorned with freshly cleaned underwear.

"All right, all right, fine. You're a real buzz kill, you know that?" Yusuke's grumbles soon faded as he mulled over the question, lower lip jutting out. Crossed ankles battling for dominance, he fidgeted unmercifully for some time, head dipping between his shoulder blades.

Retrieving his cup, he gave the liquid a tentative sniff, staring at it for quite some time before taking a sip. "If we're talking my biggest fear with Keiko," He allowed slowly, tilting the container this way and that. "My biggest fear is her leaving, finding someone else." Kuwabara's eyes widened at the admission though Kurama's face remained untouched, a blank slate ready for use. "I mean, have you seen her? She have no problem finding another guy if she wanted to – I'm honestly surprised she waited for me this long." Here he rubbed the back of his head, a slow smile creeping onto his face. "Besides, this whole thing with Spirit World and Demons has weirded her out from the beginning, you know? She deserves a normal life with a normal guy, some pushover with an office job, the suit and tie kind of life."

Silence reigned for a beat before he whipped around to face Kurama, finger pointed directly at his face. "Your turn, fox boy! Go ahead, spill it!"

A hum sounded and Kurama lowered his cup to the floor, fingertips tracing clay crevices. Gaze downcast, the former thief didn't have to ponder long, voice unexpectedly soft when he announced "My worst fear is my lover dying before I."

Kuwabara straightened even as Yusuke cocked his head, ungelled locks falling to tickle one ear. "Why? Don't men usually croak before women?"

"Not always." Kurama's gaze fell to his pale chinos, picking at a stray string. "I lived a long life before coming to this world, longer than most of my kind. A long life breeds experience." A sigh and his brow furrowed, pain briefly dying his face. "I've endured such a thing before – I never want to go through it again."

Another pregnant pause, interrupted at last by a groan. "Man, this is lame! Why would you ask something like that, anyway? Let do some–"

"Um, may I try?"

Kuwabara's head jerked in the direction of the voice, soft as tinkling crystal. "O-of course you can!" He glared at Yusuke, daring him to speak against her. "_Right_, Urameshi?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Yusuke said slowly, as taken aback as the other two at Yukina's request. Up until now, she'd been a comforting onlooker, encouraging the boys in their shenanigans. "Go for it."

"Thank you." Yukina gave a short bow, eyes fixed her folded hands. For a moment, she became lost in her own thoughts, a well-manicured nail rubbing across one knuckle, as though the joint held some secret only she could know.

Then, just when Kuwabara moved to place a comforting hand on her arm, she spoke. "What I fear most with my lover is . . . intimacy."

Hands frozen in mid-air, all color drained from Kuwabara's face even as tea spewed from Yusuke's mouth, uncontrollable laughter filling the room. Yukina's eyes widened even as Kurama attempted to reign him in, chastising the man rolling on the floor. "Yusuke, that's enough!"

"I can't – I can't h-help it!" He cackled, raising his head only fall back at her bewildered look. "His di– She's afraid of his DING-DONG!"

"Hey, shut up!" Kuwabara rose, standing tall over his prostrate friend. "Don't insult my girl!"

"I'm not . . .insulting _her_, doofus!" Yusuke finally found the strength to sit up, though he couldn't keep a straight face for his next comment. "So, guess you sword's not all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

The taller man pounced then, trying and failing for a hold around his throat. They tumbled from one end of the room to the other like children, choice phrases such as 'dildo', 'cock-sucker' and 'genital gobbler' filling the air.

Kurama sighed, hoping his smile would sway the distress on Yukina's face. "Tell me, why does that concern you? Does the thought of being with a man frighten you?"

"Oh, not at all!" The two stopped bickering at this, turning to face her with fists still full of the others hair and clothes. "It's just, well–" She bit her lip, fidgeting beneath so many sets of eyes. "I'm afraid I would – hurt him." The admission was soft, the barest of whispers.

"But why, baby?" Kuwabara shrugged out of Yusuke's grip, kneeling before her. "We all know you'd never hurt anyone!"

She wilted beneath his trusting gaze, the love in his eyes. "I almost did."

His eyes widened though he didn't retreat, refused to show any fear. "When?"

"When Tarukane took me." Pain filled her voice and she looked away, staring at some unknown point on the wall. "Ice is difficult to control: it reacts to any strong emotion, no matter what evokes them or how. That's why my people do their best to shut all feeling away – we're afraid of what lies inside our hearts. We're taught to do so as children."

Here she paused, hands trembling atop her lap. "When those men took me and made me give them what they wanted, it made me angry." The admission threatened to close her throat, reducing her voice to little more than a breath. "I froze the room more than once, though none of those times were intentional – it simply happened because I was upset. Everything freezes with emotion, whether its anger, happiness or pleasure." Here her voice wavered, warbling like a lark's. "If . . . if I accidentally hurt the one I love, froze them in our marriage bed, I–"

Kuwabara's hand suddenly settled over hers, enveloping both in a gentle but firm grip.

"Know what scares me more than anything?" Without waiting for her response, he lifted those small hands, kissing her fingertips softly. He met her gaze then, onyx irises firm, assuring. "The thought that my lady feels like she has to hide anything from me, even the parts of herself she doesn't like."

A blush dusted her cheeks, lips parting in wonder. "Kazuma–"

"That's a man's job, isn't it? To protect the woman he loves?" He pulled her into his arms, then, voice feather-soft. "I love everything about you, baby, and I want to see it all – even the things you're not proud of." The muscles at his shoulders rolled as he tightened his embrace, nose buried in her hair. "We'll only do that when you're ready though, okay?"

Yukina's face softened, a smile lighting her lips as she hugged him back. "Okay. Thank you, Kazuma."

They remained this way a few moments more and the other two watched on, unwilling to break the spell cast by the lovers.

When Kuwabara finally released her, Yukina met his gaze once more. "May I ask a question?"

"Yeah, sure baby." He smiled, affection brimming in his gaze. "Anything you want."

She licked her lips, pondering a moment before raising doe eyes to him. "Kazuma, what's a 'ding-dong'?"

A/N: Inktober Prompt – Freeze.


	5. Prompt 5 Built in Black

The music ceased when lightning flashed and sparks flew from a nearby power pole, engulfing the apartment in darkness. A gasp as I caught her middle, stopping her descent from tripping over my foot. Booming thunder nearly drowned out her curse, a sound which caused my grip on her to tighten.

Azumi did not allow such words to fly carelessly.

"Not again." She grumbled, glancing over her shoulder to stare out the window. Rain continued to pound the panes, as it had for the last hour, though the weather appeared to be the last thing on her mind. Azumi didn't break the stance still held from the interrupted dance, a spirited samba that left me breathless still, though comfort appeared to be the last thing on her mind.

Yoko hummed as she shifted in my grasp, muscles roiling beneath honeyed skin at her sigh. "Looks like it's just our building this time."

My mouth grew dry when he took the opportunity to study her, gaze roving with a predator's precision. I felt him watch her through my eyes, noting the arch of her neck, how her back bent just so in my arms, hair tickling the knuckles of my right hand–

A growl filled my ears as she pulled away, one from a throat far older than mine. "I take it this happens often?"

If she noticed the strain in my voice, she ignored it. "More often than it should." The neon lights of downtown reached even here, stretching through the window to pool at her feet. Stocking toes curling, a rain-splattered glow enveloped her, painting her skin in various shades of color. Hands perched at either hip, she rolled her shoulders, motion reaching down to her feet before traversing back up again, legs coiling beneath black tights.

I felt more than heard myself swallow, aware of the heat filling the narrow space he occupied. "Can anything be done?"

"Until the city decides to come fix it? Nope." She rotated her neck, an audible 'pop' filling the space. "They can't do anything while it's raining, anyway."

He shifted beneath my skin, allowing me a glimpse into his innermost thoughts. The exchange lasted only the briefest of moments but was enough to make me stiffen, heat burning both cheeks. "I should go."

Azumi turned, lavender-tinted brow rising. "In this weather? You'll be drenched in seconds."

He moved my hand as she passed and I stopped myself just in time, thrusting the appendage into my pocket. "It's fine, really–"

"You don't live far from here, right? My guess is power's out at your place, too." She knelt beside the record player, rummaging in a wicker basket below. "That last strike took everything out on this side of the street."

I watched her search the container from a distance, arm trembling. He made no move to further his advances but I pulled the syringe between my fingers, just in case. Though I'd been faithful in taking Suzuka's medicine since that fateful night, Yoko maintained a certain degree of control over my body, far more than I would like. Even after doubling the dosage, he remained nonplussed, ever plotting, laying in wait to strike when least expected:

All because of her.

"Here we go!"

A flash of light and I gasped, stumbling back. Azumi stood, surprise quickly fading to concern. She stepped closer. "Hey, you okay?"

"Of course." But the lie sounded strained to my own ears, loud as the rain beating her window.

Mouth twisting, she cut off my retreat with one touch, inner wrist brushing my forehead. "Hm, you feel a little warm to me. Sure you don't need to sit down?"

Of course she would suspect illness, remember my supposed poor constitution, a quickly woven tale to cover her spying the syringe among my belongings at the cafe. "I'm fine." I assured softly, donning the smile which always won over mother. "Really."

He remained silent beneath her attentions, waiting as she redirected the flashlight's beam, checking the pallor of my skin and pulling down a single bottom lid. "Well, that was quite a workout." She admitted, pulling away slowly. "Just let me know if you start to feel faint."

I nodded, thankful when she pulled away, pressing another flashlight into my hand. "Here, make yourself useful."

My steps followed her even as Yoko laughed, echoing inside my mind. "What are we doing?"

"Gathering candles: I try to stay prepared but can't remember if I put new batteries in these after last time."

At her bedroom door, she turned, pointing across the hall. "There should be some in the guest room, but if nothing else check the linen closet – it's by the living room, before you get to the bathroom."

Another nod and she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her.

'_You should take her now_.' He whispered, voice pricking like the thorned vines he fancied.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, following the beam's light in search of the desired items.

'_She wouldn't refuse you_.'

"That's beside the point." I breathed, gathering wax masses which resided in both aluminum tins and glass canisters. Developing a separate identity from my companion had been no easy task as a child, especially since he insisted on talking to pass the time. At one point, I'd tried replying in my head and, though he heard such things, the practice made it hard to distinguish his voice from my own. This became easier with time, though more often than not, I still responded to him verbally due to habit. "Azumi trusts me, and I refuse to forfeit that for your libido."

He snorted, amusement tinkling in my ears. '_Don't act as though you aren't attracted to her._'

"I said no such thing." If I listened closely, I could hear her rummaging about in her room, the whisper of cloth sounding as she sat on her bed, doubtlessly searching yet another drawer. "Now is simply not the time."

Yoko paused, dense silence encompassing my mind before he asked '_When, then?_'

"When I know she feels the same way." Candles tucked into my raised shirt front, I glanced over the room once more, noting the navy bed sheets and the ficus humming in the corner. "I will not force her to do anything."

Before he could respond, I left the room, plodding down the hall on silent feet. Azumi still shuffled about in her bedroom but that was fine, for it gave me time to think, time to reflect. Yoko listened to her movements as well though something was different in his attentions to her, something the memories I'd seen of every other woman of his lacked. Though he appreciated her body, he hung on her every word, rolling them over when he thought I wasn't listening. He adored her mind, her personal preferences for art, jewelry and past times. Despite countless hours spent in her company, neither of us could truly pin down Azumi's actions, nor know exactly what would do–

The thought was both enthralling and frightening.

"All right!" Her voice called me from my musings and I mimicked her movements, setting candles about on multiple surfaces in the living room and kitchen. When the last one found a home, she produced a lighter from her bosom, flame flickering to life with a single flick of her thumb.

She lit each candle one by one until the space was bathed in a soft glow, somehow melting the tension to something pliable, soft and gentle. The storm had yet to abate outside and even now cold seeped into the apartment, evidenced by the goose flesh blossoming on her arms.

Despite this, I refused to offer my thick cotton shirt, warring against all rules of decorum for my part and instinct on his. Azumi was a woman, a woman who'd allowed us into her domain. If she deemed her clothing inappropriate, she would gather other garments from her closet. There was no reason to–

"Hey, want to do something fun?"

I straightened at this, fully aware of the path Yoko's consciousness took at the word 'fun'. "What did you have in mind?"

Before I knew it, we were pulling bedding from the linen closet, rearranging the living room furniture and borrowing the chairs from the kitchen. When everything met her specifications, she nodded, moving onto the next stage of her plan.

Why are we doing this again?" I couldn't stop the question when she handed me one corner of a sheet, unfolding the linen with her help.

Azumi grinned, nudging luminous canisters gently with her foot before draping her end over the corner of the sofa. "Surely you've heard of a cover fort?"

I frowned but followed her lead, tucking the other end beneath a plant on the windowsill. "Yes?"

"Ever built one?"

One brow rose, though she appeared serious. "When I was a child."

A burst of air between her lips and she laughed, grabbing a blanket this time. "Who says adults can't do it, too?" My limbs refused to move to help her this time so, when she pushed the corner into a desk drawer without resistance, she sighed, glancing over her shoulder. "See? This is why you're single."

Yoko's chuckle attested to her words and I blushed, suddenly unable to hold her gaze. "Because I do not act like a child?"

"No, because you don't know how to have _fun_." She shook the blanket in her hand, pointing to the loose end with her chin. "C'mon now, you're falling behind!"

So I humored her, helping construct her living room into a miniature war zone. I was certain Toki would come at any moment and sit atop the thing, putting all of our efforts to waste, yet he refused to appear. Azumi refused to relent until all the bedding found a home, long after the rain ceased and her neighbors regained power.


	6. Prompt 6 Trusty Husky

"No."

"Aw c'mon, grandma!" Yusuke's whine overrode his master's voice thick with cigarette smoke, despite the early hour. Sure enough, Genkai strolled the temple grounds with calm confidence, cancer stick held between her lips. Though still in the infant stages, the foundation for the halfway house were being laid, several acres of forest stripped bare only to boast the skeletons of cabins, twelve in all. A slow start, but a necessary one–

She wouldn't see her dream die due to ill-planning and haste.

"Just for a little bit?"

"I said no!"

His steps died at her back; she felt more than heard him set his jaw in that stubborn way of his."At least look at him!"

Genkai paused, biting back a curse only to expel smoke between clenched teeth. Only her idiot pupil would come up with this kind of scheme. Yusuke knew she could barely tolerate humans, much less animals. Hadn't he ever noticed the absence of deer, squirrels, even the crows which populated the surrounding mountains from her temple?

Demons, it seemed, were the only species she could happily coexist with.

She turned against her better judgment, leveling him with a withering look. Yusuke wore a sheepish grin, holding a puppy before him as if the thing were a shield. The thing appeared to have the sense to keep quiet though he wriggled in his hands – for it was indeed a _he_ – tufts of white and brown fur bunching between firm fingers. Erect ears, a nose already long for his age, paws nearly as big as his chest, cheerful blue eyes:

Husky.

The fool brought her a _husky_.

"Someone abandoned him, left him tied in the park." Yusuke smiled as the brat's tail wagged, brushing against his ribs with each swipe. "Keiko wants to keep him but there's no room for him now, not til we move out from her parent's house."

Another drag and she let loose a puff of smoke, wisps curling into the morning light. She'd been right to suspect Yusuke's coming to visit her this early – the only thing he'd ever been early too was his own funeral. "Sounds like a personal problem."

"Why not?" He pressed, scowling down at her. "You took me in when I had nowhere else to go–"

"And I'm still paying for it – thanks for reminding me." She moved around him and the beast, intent on finishing her rounds in peace.

Yusuke would have none of it. "I'll pay for his food and everything! You won't even know he's here."

Silence as she checked first this then that talisman, feeding a third more of her energy. Did he have any idea how much these things ate?

"Just through winter, that should be all the time I need."

She fought the urge to laugh, turning instead to face him once more. "Give me one good reason why I should help you."

Any trace of despair or aggravation fled his face, leaving only determination in the set of his mouth. "Because aside from teaching me how to use my powers, this is the only thing I've ever asked of you."

A fresh breeze picked up then, cool fingers heralding the beginning of autumn. For a moment, he believed she'd deny him again, turn him away with no chance of recourse. However, she sighed, refusing to look up as she extinguished the cigarette between her fingertips.

"You have until spring." He couldn't stop his grin when she closed her hand around the crumpled butt, bringing both arms behind her back. "If you don't have your act together by then, you really are a hopeless cause." She cut her eyes at him, a glare which still made his hair stand on-end. "Do I make myself clear?"

Yusuke laughed, shifting the puppy to one hand to rub his neck. "No complaints here! I'll still be here every weekend to help with what's going on here, don't worry." He grinned, eyes softening with genuine warmth. "Thanks, grandma – I owe you big time."

He left shortly after that, arms pumping in his haste not to miss the last morning train. The puppy made no move to follow him, choosing to sit instead the former detective placed him, staring up at the old woman.

They fell into a definite pattern after that day, though who determined the route of their cohabitation, she didn't know.

He slept before her door in the morning, determined to trip her in the predawn light. She fed him no more than necessary, encouraging his exploration of the surrounding woods. She barred entry into the temple if he was dirty, he dug up her flower beds during the night.

She called him micro mutt.

He peed in her shoes.

The husky's only saving grace was Yukina. As with all animals, the Koorime took to the fur ball immediately, even going so far as give him a name – Keikai, or Kei for short. He didn't seem to mind and took to the name quickly, though the old master never called him by it.

She didn't want to call him anything.

Yusuke did indeed give her all the money she needed to care for the dog but more often than not, the weekends came and went without his appearing. Genkai understood the absence – he was working to save for a house, after all – but that didn't stop her from giving him a hard time when he finally appeared. Kei's back reached his knee easily now, and though Yusuke put up a fuss over someone other than him naming the thing, all protest ceased when she told him Yukina's role in the matter.

Each cabin was finished far faster than she thought possible; seemed the former shinobi knew how to use their hands for more than fighting. Still, she dreaded the changing seasons, as she did each year.

Winter rarely proved kind to her.

The first snow found her perusing the forest, checking the barrier protecting her land. Snow meant moisture, which thinned the ink and sometimes caused it to run, ruining the seals entirely. Her joints ached with cold, despite the thick coat and pants inlaid with faux fur. The trek proved difficult, though it usually did this time of year; Yukina wouldn't expect her back until after lunch, though the maiden knew there was nothing to fear:

Everything in the forest feared Genkai.

Suddenly, pain shot through her arm, knotting her chest bringing her to her knees. She gasped for air, fire spreading across her back and neck, sweat replacing where the chill resided moments before. Vision swimming, she pressed a hand to her heart, noting the erratic rhythm, the cotton filling her brain. Logical thought remained despite the heaviness of her limbs, pain dulling each sense to the point she sank fully onto the snow. White filled her hair, dotted her skin, crystallized her lashes though her eyes refused to shut completely.

Was this how she was going to die?

A crunch and a 'thump' sounded near her ear, bringing a myriad of colors her mind refused to process. Something cold; a warm swipe at her cheek and clarity returned, however brief. The dog, Keikai–

Why was he here?"

He whined when fire cinched her chest again, stealing what little strength she had. Kei nudged her wrist, took her sleeve in his teeth, but still she didn't move, couldn't move. Breathing hurt – _everything_ hurt – and she just wanted to sleep. If this mutt would let her rest, everything would be fine. She could return to the temple after a short nap and–

Another lick to the face and the dog ran off, leaving her alone among the trees. She couldn't stop the chuckle, even though it hurt. Of course he wouldn't stay; why would he? They'd never cared for each other from the beginning.

She drifted to sleep soon after, thinking of how she would tell Yusuke he'd picked a worthless whelp for a pet.

Two sensation crawled from the black sometime later, each equally puzzling; warmth and dryness. Genkai opened her eyes with some difficulty, perplexed at the familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling. Cotton had replaced wool at some point during her slumber – her sleeping robes – the press of blankets comforting after sprinkling snow.

Her brow furrowed, a grunt sounding low in her throat as she tried to rise. Snow, wards, the pain in her chest–

What happened?

"You shouldn't move."

The voice drew her attention left, all signs of grogginess fleeing. Hiei sat against the wall only two feet from her, far closer than either appeared comfortable with. The fire apparition refused to look at her, though she noted the absence of his cloak, the sweat beading on bared arms.

Was he purposely heating the room?

"Yukina will be back soon; be still until then."

Genkai leaned back against her elbows though she didn't lay down, skepticism lighting her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Did you forget the date in your old age?"

Of course – today was the third. They'd picked this day for Hiei to bring the new arrivals each month, hopeful demons who'd passed the background test and were ready to start new lives in the human world.

How could she forget?

"Don't worry, Kurama is seeing to them."

Her brow furrowed and she thought once more to the white-tinted forest. "What happened?"

"You had a heart attack." He afforded her a glance then, though she couldn't tell his thoughts on the matter. "The fox worried when you weren't back for the meal but Yukina assured us it was normal, that your patrol takes longer in winter. The dog changed all that." Here he scowled, pulling a knee to his chest. "It wouldn't stop barking and running around, pulling at our clothes; I would have killed it if it didn't belong to the detective."

He shook his head, eyes darkening. "Yukina suggested the dog wanted us to follow it, so we did; led us straight to you." Here he paused, frowning at the memory. "You were lying face-down, covered in snow – Kurama had to feel twice for a pulse." Hiei met her gaze again, tone lacking its normal brusqueness. "You're lucky to be alive. If not for that dog, you wouldn't be."

Only then did she notice the weight at her side. Genkai glanced down to see Kei pressed against her, head resting atop her leg. Though it took more strength than she'd ever admit, she reached out and petted that soft fur, lingering at his ears. Kei sighed and leaned into her hand, still lost to sleep.

She lay down without another word and Hiei remained silent as well. Under his watchful eye, the master fell back to sleep, fingers curled at the pup's head.

When sleep took her, Hiei smirked at the sight. Yusuke's time was up–

He wasn't getting the dog back.


	7. Prompt 7 Enchantress

She intrigued me from the start.

"Why is this your favorite story? It appears rather simple."

"Most things in life are, once you take away selfishness and scheming." The woman laughed, a sound almost as beautiful as her name on my tongue: Azumi. Azumi–

If only such a thing could be voiced.

Shuichi watched her from his place on her couch, chained in place by a proffered headache. A pitiful excuse for more of her time, but an effective one.

I'd used it myself on more than one occasion.

"But a fairy tale?"

His head against her thigh became my head; her fingers brushed his hair while she glanced over the text and I relished the touch, breathing a sigh he allowed to escape his lips.

"Originally, it was a novel written in the eighteenth century, though the author later turned it into a children's story." She hummed, well-tended nails tracing the words. "Do you want to hear it or not?"

He said nothing further, thankfully, and she began. _Beauty and the Beast_ flowed effortlessly from her lips, from Beauty's origins and determination to save her father from death, to her making a bargain with a Beast – one who knew the ugliness of his soul – who submitted himself immediately to her. The Beast loved her more than life itself, and wished to make her his wife, but she could not because of his appearance, because of his inhumanity. Beauty, however, missed her father terribly, and begged to be able to see him. The Beast could deny her nothing and allowed her to see the old merchant but begged her to return, for he could not live without her.

However, her return was delayed and when she came back, Beauty found the Beast unconscious, nearly dead. Only then did she realize she cared for him, too, and profess her love. The Beast transformed into a prince before her and wed her that day before her family by a beautiful fairy, and so they lived happily ever after.

Though the story meant to center readers on Beauty, I found Azumi's voice changed whenever she happened upon a passage on the Beast, softening to something akin to pity.

Of course, Shuichi noted this as well. "You do not seem overly fond of the heroine of this story."

"That's not it." She shook her head, placing a marker before closing the book. "I love Beauty – you just know how she ends up from the first line."

He stared up into her eyes, headache forgotten. "How so?"

"She's obviously the 'princess' here; when do fairy tales not end well for the princess? Now the Beast, that's a different story." Azumi smiled, tracing the green cover, the cover illustration of the two in question fashioned with gold thread. "Wouldn't you agree that at first, he appears to be the bad guy?"

If Shuichi noticed how intently I listened to her, he gave no indication of it. Rather, he mulled over her question, mouth set in thought. "Yes." He allowed slowly, thinking back over the story. "Though there is no other villain presented."

"Wrong." Her fingers continued their ministrations with his hair, a sensation he nearly became lost in. "You're missing the big picture here."

He shifted against her leg, fighting growing drowsiness. "Enlighten me."

"Her sisters are set up as the villains from the start because of their selfishness, though their faults are forgotten when the Beast comes on the scene because he looks like a bad guy. Kind of like when you see an albino in American films – it's a built-in prejudice."

Shuichi chuckled at the reference though I couldn't care less about moving pictures. I'd never heard anyone argue in favor of a monster before, taking pity on something not human or anything belonging to them, and I wanted to hear more. _Needed_ to hear more–

Why would she feel sentiment toward something she hated?

"So he's not the villain, he just looks like one – that's obvious the first time he meets her."

Suddenly, he stopped her hand, fingers curling loosely around her wrist. "And what of you?"

Azumi's eyes widened and I bit back a growl, a warning at handling her so casually. "What about me?"

Shuichi allowed himself a moment to think, to soothe the ire rising in my gut. He had no right to touch her; I barely tolerated her name on his tongue. Once again, I yearned for a body of my own, something I hadn't enjoyed in over twenty years. She would never know the vices of pain or loneliness again; her name would ever be on my lips. She would want for nothing, never doubt her beauty or her worth, for I would offer sacrifices at her temple daily. Her enemies would become my enemies, we would bathe in their blood together–

No one would ever hurt her again.

"Do you believe something not inherently human can be good?"

She did well in hiding her surprise, though her arm tensed all the same. Sickly unease wafted into my nostrils, along with minted fear, and hate toward him rose anew. How could that fool ask her such a thing? Especially knowing–

"Yes."

The word came slowly; soft, yet not lacking in strength. Azumi's brow furrowed and she licked her lips – a habit which always accompanied her thoughts – before straightening her shoulders, meeting his gaze. "There are good people and bad people, right? The same should hold true for demons." Conflicting emotions danced in her eyes though her resolve never wavered, as though she'd decided this long ago. Perhaps she did. "I refuse to become a bigot because of one bad day."

Shuichi said something else but I wasn't listening, couldn't take my eyes off of her. This woman – this human – possessed more strength than I ever thought possible of her kind, a power that came only through hardship and the wisdom gleaned thereby. Her beauty renewed itself again in my sight, an attribute which outweighed that of countless women I'd known during my lifetime. The curve of her smile, hard-won after a long battle with wariness–

She was an enchantress ignorant of the spells she weaved.

A/N: Inktober prompt 7 – Enchanted. _Hey You_, Yoko's POV


	8. Prompt 8 A Frail Thing

"I still don't get it."

The gruff mumble reached my ears despite the din, the result of too much merry-making in a confined space. Despite the late hour, the tavern remained as lively as it had at twilight, robust men swinging rosy-cheeked women this way and that, all under the curious spell wrought by hard drink. No one minded the occasional draft trickling in through cracks in the walls, or the occasional creaking from the floor above, moonlight spilling through exposed cedar beams. Strings sounded in one corner, accompanied by a untrained drum and the clapping of hands, each urging the dancers on.

Only our table remained bereft of merriment.

Kuwabara mulled over his mead, tilting the frothy pint this way and that. Dark sleeves rolled past the elbow, he stared at the battered table top, counting each as if they were marks of honor, cheek held in his hand. Hiei had left our little party long before, slipping upstairs shortly after our arrival. His absence wasn't unusual, given the circumstances – he'd never enjoyed crowds, even with growing up in father's court – though he had not eaten since morning.

I took another sip of watered wine at a lustful yell, turning to eye the dance floor. Yusuke occupied the middle of the room, egging on the musicians. A girl on either arm, my cousin twirled about on nimble feet, shoes and cloak forgotten somewhere between here and there. Face pink with laughter, he felt no need to hide his horns or heritage, braids prancing wildly as he danced. When his partners teased his frantic pace, he lifted them easily in his arms, never pausing his steps.

A remarkable feat, since one of the girls weighed twice as much as he.

"He's the crown prince of Tourrin, right?" Kuwabara frowned at the display, finally taking another swig of his drink only to grimace, pushing it away. "How can he get away with stuff like this?"

I chuckled as the hefty woman squealed, batting playfully at Yusuke's ear. "My cousin doesn't enjoy nearly as many liberties as you think, Kuwabara. Think of who his guardian is."

"Yeah, but Hokushin's not _here_!" He hissed, careful to keep his voice down while leaning over the table. "He does this every time we stop at a village!"

A raised brow and I lowered my cup as well, propping my chin atop laced fingers. "Do you have something against affections toward women?"

"O-of course not!" He blushed, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. "I'm a man too, you know!"

"I'm only teasing you." My smile came easily, as it often did with him. Pure souls such as his were hard to come by. "Though why should his actions bother you so? I thought you respected him."

"It's _because_ I respect him that this bugs me." Kuwabara murmured, glancing at the crowd once more. Yusuke remained in his own world, one filled with laughter and the press of soft skin against his own. "I mean," His voice lowered to a whisper and he leaned further still, breast nearly brushing the table. "_You're_ a prince but you don't act like that!"

"We also hale from different countries." Though I was certain none would overhear us with this din, I spoke softly as well, emphasizing the words lest he not catch them. "As well as separate races. Oni view both masculinity and monarchy differently than Gandarans."

"Yeah, but why?" He frowned, nose wrinkling with the force of his grimace. "King Yomi and King Raizen are brothers right? They can't be that different."

I paused, gaze shifting to Yusuke. How much was reasonable to share? Though I cared for Kuwabara, I would not betray the trust of my cousin.

A pregnant pause and I sighed, pushing my cup away as well. "Have you heard of the Hunger?"

Puzzlement darkened his gaze even as his brow furrowed, head tilting. "Like when you miss a meal or something?"

"Not quite." The musicians shifted to another folk song and I lowered my hands, fingers tapping out the beat against my knuckles. "The Hunger is a disease peculiar to the Oni."

His eyes widened, mouth falling open. "You mean Urameshi's sick?"

"In a sense." Another jeer from Yusuke and the company laughed, fiddler shaking his head before livening up the tune once more. "The Hunger begins to stir when a ram reaches adolescence and will not cease until that ram finds a mate. Ewes are under no such compulsion."

"So what does it do? The Hunger, I mean. You said it's a disease."

"That it is." One of my cousin's partners collapsed into a chair while two more rushed to take her place, the plump one keeping pace still with his frenzied steps. "When the Hunger awakens, it grants a ram incredible strength and fortitude – based on the instinctual desire to protect their women – but in return the sickness eats at the Oni's mind, corroding his sanity until he finally finds whom he wishes to mate."

Kuwabara swallowed, larynx bobbing beneath his flesh. "Does that make it stop? Mating, I mean."

"No, there is no cure for the Hunger. Mating simply acts as a stopper for it, much like a cork in a bottle of wine." I inclined my head toward Yusuke, who even now led the three giggling girls upstairs. "Tristes aid in slowing the disease, though such a thing is not nearly as effective as mating."

He stared down into his mead, as if the lucre liquid held the answers to such a dilemma. "Is that what happened to King Raizen?"

Uncle's face flashed before my mind's eye, a smile so much like his son's tugging at his lips. "Yes. When Queen Atsuko died, he lost himself to grief – my uncle did not seek to quell the Hunger until it was too late."

Silence fell then, indifferent to the steady clamor of shuffling feet and the beating drum. "That won't happen to Urameshi, will it?"

The soft question brushed against my own concerns, melding father and son together once again in my mind. However, now was not the time for such things and I pushed the image aside, donning a smile for him. "No one can know the future, my friend, but don't worry – Yusuke has no intention of becoming like his father."

Kuwabara tucked a cheek between his jaws, lifting the pint to his lips. After he'd drank his fill, he settled back, staring at the scarred wood once again. "He's a lot stronger than I thought."

"You're wrong."He started at the statement, staring as my finger traced the cup's rim. "True, Yusuke has great physical prowess but the Hunger is never far from his mind, laying in wait to ensnare him. In truth, he's a frail thing; he simply doesn't want anyone's pity."

A spirited yell from above met our ears, one from a familiar throat which sent dust raining on our heads. Kuwabara blushed and buried his face once more in his glass; I couldn't help but chuckle. The knight would keep Yusuke's secret until his dying breath, I knew as much without exacting a oath.

Our going to bed anytime soon, however, did not look quite as promising.


	9. Prompt 9 Swing for the Fences

"So you _do_ like her!"

I sucked in a breath, hopelessly aware of the sharp prickling in my chest. All at once the night turned quiet – too quiet – and a roaring filled my ears, though we were nowhere near the sea. Too enthralled in my friend's company, I'd allowed the sentiment to slip out; a foolish mistake:

One _he_ doubtlessly heard.

"Wow, didn't know you had it in you – thought for sure you'd die a virgin." Yusuke shook his head, a nameless can of something dangling from his fingertips.

Pinching the bridge of my nose to quell a sudden migraine, I stood to lean against the fire escape's rail, careful of the fern at my feet. "Can we please change the subject?"

"Not a chance." He hoisted himself onto the rail and though the metal groaned in protest, it did not buckle beneath his weight. Pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from one pocket, Yusuke lit one of the infernal things and inhaled, blowing bitter smoke into the breeze.

We maintained our silence for some time, lost to our own thoughts. I knew without prompting that he would suggest something rash, something ludicrous, though the substance of the thing eluded me.

At last, when nearly half of his cigarette had burned away, he exhaled once more, hazed gray clinging to his lips. "So what's she like?"

I started, eyeing him warily. Yusuke was not one to discuss intimate matters of the heart; not even marriage had changed that. Still, I couldn't help but notice the unexpected softness marring his gaze, the way the wedding band clung to his finger. The former detective had not been kind to his ring, putting it through the ordeals of helping with the construction of the halfway house, managing a ramen stand, as well as the random brawls which found their way to him. Still, the dented gold suited him, perfectly at home alongside calloused skin.

"Well, you already know her profession." I allowed slowly, hands slipping into ready pockets.

He snorted, flicking ashes with his thumb. "'Her profession'? You make her sound like a hooker or somethin'!"

A familiar pressure at my navel and I leveled him with a glare, not quite able to stop the growl rising in my chest.

"Hey, you said it, not me. Aren't you the one always saying 'think before you speak'?"

Yoko's irritation began the slow descent into anger, an emotion we shared despite my best intentions. "Yusuke–"

"Okay, okay, geez." He bit back a chuckle, glancing my way with a raised brow. "Seriously though, what do you love about her?"

My heart leaped into my throat at the word. "I said no such thing."

"We really going to play semantics right now, fox boy?" It was Yusuke's turn to sigh, head tipping back to stare into the dark sky. "Look, you've only mentioned her _every time_ we've talked for the past few months! What am I supposed to think?" Heat flared in my cheeks though he didn't seem to notice, nor the fists trembling in my pockets. "It's obvious you have the hots for what's-her-name–"

"Azumi."

Yoko bristled at her name on my tongue, power surging beneath my skin, pulling at the seeds in my hair.

Yusuke stiffened, glancing my way. Of course, he noticed the space between us, the tension singing through my body, the fern's slow, sure path up my leg. "That you or him?"

I leveled him with a look, allowing him to draw his own conclusions.

Another smog-tinted breeze and he sighed, steadying himself as he leaned back. "He's got it bad, huh?"

"To put it mildly."

If my companion minded our talking of him so casually, he kept such thoughts to himself. Slowly, he allowed his power to find its home once again in my flesh, though I knew he remained watchful, wary. The fern returned to its resting place as well, leafy fronds brushing against my ankles.

Yusuke eyed me a moment longer before turning back to face the city, taking another drag from his cigarette. "What about you? How do you feel about her?"

"Honestly? I'm not quite sure." I rested my elbows on the rail, hoping silently it held both of our weights. "I admire her without question and find myself thinking of her at odd points during the day, wondering what she's doing, whether or not she's safe. It's worse at night, though, for she enters my dreams – I cannot get away from her."

He lifted both brows. "Do you _want_ to get away from her?"

"Not really; it's strange." I concluded, propping my chin in my hand. "This has never happened before."

"To either of you?"

"No."

Yusuke thought a moment before shaking his head, smoke streaming through both nostrils. "This is insane . . ."

I glanced his way once more, noting that at some point calm assurance had replaced his normal mirth. "What is?"

He took his time answering, taking in the city-scape once more. "You're in love with her." Weaving his feet between the iron bars, he took one last drag before extinguishing the cigarette, stashing the crumpled but in his pocket. "Both of you are."

The conclusion left my mouth dry and for a moment, I found myself unable to speak. Yoko stirred once more though this time not in anger. Curiosity brimming, he crept closer from his dwelling place, as though his ear were pressed to the door of my consciousness. "How can you tell?"

"Easy; I've felt that way every day since Keiko and I were kids." He grinned, thoughts of his bride overriding all else for a moment. "It's like, I remember life before, but after we met, nothing from before really mattered. Not my deadbeat dad, mom having too many boyfriends, the fact that school sucked, nothing. I couldn't wait to see her, even when we'd only been apart five minutes. Stupid, but it's true." Yusuke smirked, throwing me a knowing look. "Sound familiar?"

I sighed even as Yoko digested the words, fingers roving through thick bangs. "It doesn't matter, anyway."

"Why, afraid to tell her?" He joked, bringing the can to his lips. "Scared she'll turn you down?"

"No, the exact opposite." The admission came as a whisper, one I never intended to voice. Another breath and my head sank into my arms, away from prying eyes. "I could never give her what she deserves."

"What, a good dicking? Think you're selling yourself short there, fox boy." Yusuke chuckled as my head drooped further. "You know what they say, practice makes perfect. Lock you two in a room and I bet you'd be screwing like rabbits before the day's out!"

"I wasn't referring to intimacy."

"Ah, what comes after, gotcha." He nodded sagely, grip tightening on his perch. "Work on your bedroom talk, then – stay away from boring subjects and you'll be fine. Wait," Here he paused, lips pursed in concentration. "Maybe you need to work on your game _period_, then. All you know how to talk about is brainy stuff–"

A growl and I shot him a half-hearted glare. "I can't offer her a normal life, Yusuke."

Here his mouth twisted, brow rising once more. "What's so great about normal? A boring desk job with a boring house in a boring neighborhood–"

"Stability; knowing nothing ill will befall her should I lose control of myself." I interjected, rising back onto my elbows. "Also, I am not well-liked in the Demon World. Should word get out about Azumi, I dread to think what could befall her."

His head tilted to the side, distrust narrowing his gaze. "You planning on letting someone hurt your woman?"

"Never." The answer was immediate, involuntary. Cold fury crept up my spine, his anger mixing with mine alongside a strange possessiveness I'd only just begun to define. "I pity the fool who tries."

Yusuke laughed, spouting some movie line I was unfamiliar with.

"There is also the issue of her humanity." I continued once the emotion subsided, staring at an open palm. "Though I was born in a human body, that does not guarantee I will age as she does."

"What makes you think that?"

I noted his wide eyes, lips still curled in some strange position only he knew. "I've kept watch over this since I was a child and, until recently, I aged as any man would."

He hunched forward despite the open air, elbows propped on his knees. "Yeah?"

"The process slowed at eighteen, though it stopped altogether in the last year or so."

A low curse and he whistled, tilting his shoulders back once more. "Think that'll change anytime soon?"

"I don't know, this is a first for him as well."

And thus the final reason I couldn't bring myself to confess to her, the elephant in the room we were desperately trying to avoid. Despite her reconciliation to demon-kind as a whole, Azumi held no abundant love for them, seeing them as a natural part of the world and nothing more. If she ever discovered the secret within my body, the truth of my origin–

She would want nothing more to do with me.

Suddenly, he blew air through pressed lips, a shrill sound that frightened the neighbor's cat. "Man, you're so full of crap!"

Jaw set, I waited patiently as Yusuke brought both legs up, wedging them beneath him to cross at the ankle. He tilted his head this way, then that before closing his eyes, hands gripping his knees. "Nope, still there."

An exasperated sigh and I straightened, arms crossing over my chest. "What is?"

"That pile of weak excuses you just came up with. You can't be that much of a pussy, Kurama."

A bark of laughter from Yoko and I glared at my friend, ire rising once more. "Yusuke–"

"Debated changing my mind for your little sob story but nope, the verdict still stands."

Slowly but surely, the migraine was taking root once again, crawling from the base of my skull as he took another swallow of his drink. "And what verdict is that?"

Yusuke wiped his mouth, grinning. "Go for her: swing for the fences, knock it out the park! Make her love you just as much as you love her." Here he smirked, missed moisture glistening beneath his nose. "If you love each other, she won't care if you have a demon inside you or are as ugly as Kuwabara's butt-hole – she'll like you just the way you are."

I started at this, anxiety welling once more. "But–"

"Look, I should know: found out one day I'm not human and then had to leave for three years, right? Keiko loves me anyway. If Azumi's the one, she'll feel the same way about you too."

And with that, he deemed the conversation over, downing the rest of the can's contents before sauntering back inside. After a moment, I shook my head, following him into the warm apartment.

It was little wonder that out of all of us, Yusuke was the first to marry.

A/N: Inktober prompt 9 – Swing; _Hey You_, Kurama's POV


	10. Prompt 10 Pitiful Pattern

Before I knew it, we'd fallen into a routine.

The human always took the first watch, determined to prove his worth both his lord and his adopted brother. Kurama believed his zeal admirable; Yusuke found it amusing. I seemed to be the only one who saw his efforts for what they were:

Useless.

"Give him a chance." The fox urged, voice low lest he overhear. "We were all inexperienced once; this is a great opportunity for Kuwabara to use the skills he's learned from you."

I gave in reluctantly, offering instead to take second watch, while Yusuke took the third. Since there were three shifts and four of us, we decided to alternate so that one of us would rest fully each night. That first evening Kurama slept soundly beside Yusuke, who would alert an enemy a league away with his snoring. Perched in the tree nearest the fire, I settled in the nook between two great branches, ready to catch the fool in his folly.

The wait did not last long.

Within the first hour, Kuwabara drifted off to sleep, chin dipping to his chest, sword slack across his knees. Scowling, I reached behind me for the limbs placed there hours before, short pieces of wood as big around as my wrist. Aiming carefully, I let the stick fly before settling back down, feigning sleep even as his snoring ceased and a curse seeped through his lips.

The process repeated itself a three times more before it was my turn to take over the watch.

"Geez, what happened to _you_?"

Yusuke whistled low the next morning attention focused on the knight. I glanced over my shoulder from where Kurama sat, enjoying the last of his dried fruit while I doused the fire. The knight was quite a sight: bruises and welts festered along his face and scalp, reds, purples and blues poignant in the dawn light. The flesh beneath Kuwabara's face had grown discolored in the night; he'd been unable to sleep after the last limb rang true.

"I don't know." The words rolled slower than usual from his tongue and he blinked, as if his eyes refused to focus. "Something kept hitting me in the head last night while you guys were asleep. Couldn't see what it was, though; probably squirrels." He yawned, scratching the back of his neck. "We've got a lot of 'em back home and they can be mean."

The Oni Prince seemed unsure how to take this, shaking his head. "Well, wake up sunshine." He called, hair ornaments clacking as he pulled his meager possessions onto his back. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."

"If we need to stop aside from mealtimes, don't hesitate to ask." Kurama added, ever the thoughtful one.

Despite the fox's offer, Kuwabara never asked for a break, though his steps were slower than normal. Rather than walk at the head of our group, he trailed behind even Yusuke's lax gait, face set in a grim frown. The moment camp was set up that night, he fell asleep in a heap, well away from the trees.

That night proved to be a repeat of the previous one.

The third was no better.

"Hey, Hiei?" Kuwabara found me by the river the fourth day, cleaning fish for the evening meal. Kurama was off procuring edible fauna in some corner of the forest while Yusuke hunted in another, ready to pounce on the first unfortunate rabbit who happened by him. Honestly, the human's presence surprised me – I thought he'd seek rest after gathering firewood. "Can I ask you something?"

Gutting the catch swiftly, I moved to scale them in the dying light, careful not to rake up meat with the knife.

Taking my silence for permission, he sat down, taking a deep breath. "You're with the prince all the time, right? I mean, you're basically his bodyguard without the fancy title." He winced at some wet sound the knife made, staring at my work. "You've saved his life multiple times; you even looked out for me when that lady and her creepy bird showed up–"

"If there's a point to your babbling, find it fast." I growled, suppressing the urge to cut out his wagging tongue.

Sucking in a breath, he swallowed, paling before finally uttering, "How do you do it?"

The knife stopped. I glanced at him, searching for any hint of sarcasm or malice and finding none.

"How do you do all that without blacking out? Kurama says you can go days without sleeping – if you think it's necessary – but I don't get how. I mean, I have trouble staying up a little late, much less a few days in a row." Here his chest swelled and he finally looked at me, meeting my gaze head-on. "I want to know how you do it."

"Why? So you can impress the prince?" Just like a noble, always vying for favor with the royal family and their consorts. I'd seen it too many times before.

Kuwabara blinked, confusion clouding his eyes. "Uh, no? So I can protect you guys."

I scoffed at that, turning back to my task. "As if we need a mortal's shield."

His face darkened and he leaned forward, catching my wrist before I could scale the fish further. I stared at that hand, forcing all emotion from my voice. "If you don't want to lose your limb, let go."

"You're wrong." Before I could counter his statement – assure him I would separate his hand from his body – he pressed on. "It's _because_ I'm human that this is so important!"

For the moment, I forgot his touch, making eye-contact once more. "Why?"

"I'm naturally weaker than the three of you, I won't deny that. But you three were the first ones who believed in me, who thought I could be something more than a human who inherited a title." He bit his inner cheek, rising to his full height to stare down at me. "I don't want to betray that trust. You guys mean a lot to me – I just want to protect what's precious to me. Isn't that a good enough reason?"

I stared back unblinkingly, waiting for him to retract the words, to rearrange them in a way that benefited him. Yet he remained silent, content to wait as long as he had to for my answer.

Eventually, he saw fit to release my wrist and I went back to work, knife scraping against fish flesh. "There are different ways to trick yourself into thinking you're not tired."

He started at my sudden response, though he hid his excitement well, hands gripping both trouser legs. "Yeah?"

"One is putting your body in an uncomfortable position; few can fall asleep like that. Another is to empty your mind entirely, which allows your mind and body to rest, even while you don't." I turned to the last fish, laying it flat upon the rock acting as a cutting board. "The last is to discipline yourself to think on one thing and one thing only, from how you would kill your opponent to the most mundane task you have to do the next day. Such a thing keeps your mind alert, yet not so preoccupied that you won't notice what's happening around you."

Kuwabara's brow furrowed as he watched me scale the fish, unflinching at the harsh sound of metal on stone. "Does that last one really work?"

I nodded, not looking up from my task.

We did not speak for the rest of the night, and said little to each other the next day. This wasn't unusual, though Kuwabara appeared deep in thought the entire time, so much so that the fox slowed his pace to talk with him several times.

That night, we settled down much as we had nearly a week before: Kuwabara sitting against the tree I'd claimed, Kurama and Yusuke sleeping nearby. To his credit, the human stayed awake nearly the entire watch, gaze roving about from time to time, ears catching the slightest sound. I couldn't determine what thought he held onto so tightly until he murmured a word under his breath, right before sleep claimed him:

"Yukina."

I stiffened at the name, staring down at him. Even though I'd suggested this method, I never thought the fool would fix his mind on the princess. Only half an hour remained until my watch but still, he had to learn.

Taking aim, I threw a knot of pine before leaning back against the trunk, knowing the branch found its mark between his eyes.

Yes, we'd fallen into a routine – a pitiful pattern demanded by the weakest among us.

Perhaps he'd learn to hold his eyes open before I ran out of wood.

A/N: Inktober Prompt 10 – Pattern; _The Whipping Boy_, Hiei's POV


	11. Prompt 11 Tainted Snow

Blood.

Tell-tale drops sprinkled about her apartment like so many Easter eggs: on the genkan's step, the corner of the upturned coffee table, smeared along the wall bordering the kitchen, along with strands of hair; _her_ hair. Signs of a struggle, shoes strewn in the hall leading to the living room, well-tended records scattered across the floor, covers torn, shattered vinyl pieces glittering like jewels against the wood. Red stained the sofa, dying tufts of cotton peeking out from shredded leather, the furniture nearly torn in two. Finally, the beloved record player lay on its side before the open window, arm broken amidst shattered pottery and black soil.

Hurried steps announced Yusuke's arrival behind me though when he ran through the door, he ground to a halt, a curse spilling from his lips. "They got here first!"

A strange stillness took hold of my soul as I took first one step into the familiar space, then another, ears straining to hear something, _anything_. No sounds came from behind her bedroom door, though my eyes lingered on the crimson print marking the white paint. Despite my friend's protests, I crept further into the apartment, searching for any signs of life, movement, a sigh:

Anything to prove they hadn't taken her.

A soft cry and I whirled, hand stopping Yusuke's questions as I stalked to the corner, carefully moving the pitiful remnants of a bookshelf. Toki lay crumpled beneath the debris, legs twisted in ways they weren't meant to bend, the rise and fall of his breaths strained. Bits of flesh clung to his paws and I knew he'd fought, done his best to protect his mistress.

One green eye opened at my touch though he didn't pull away, content for once with my presence.

"Guys!" Kuwabara burst into the room only to stop short, struggling to catch his breath while taking in the destruction. "W-what the–"

"They've taken her – we were too late."

Gathering Toki carefully in my arms, I went back to my companions, entrusting him to Kuwabara's care. "Please, see to it that he doesn't die – I will handle any medical expenses personally." I turned, nodding to Yusuke, who came immediately to my side. "Contact King Enki and have him send Hiei. We might have need of his services."

Kuwabara swallowed, pressing the weak animal gently to his chest. "But . . . what about you guys? What're you going to do?"

"What else?" His smirk pulled my lips even as the room shrank before me, hair bleached bone-white in an instant. "I'm going hunting."

Kuwabara's face blanched at the sight, the sound of the gravelly baritone rather than my timbre, though I did not give him a chance to voice his thoughts. My feet carried me through the window, pale tunic falling against a too-big chest, my chest–

_His_ chest.

"So, which one are you right now?" Yusuke somehow kept pace with me easily enough, even in this state. We leaped from building to building, urged on by instinct and her fading scent, a trail made onerous by newly fallen snow. Secrecy no longer mattered, nor did making a spectacle of myself; all that mattered was reaching her, finding them before it was too late.

The vermin would kill her without a second thought if such a thing suited their interests.

"We share the same purpose." I offered, affording him a sideways glance as we darted around a protruding billboard. "For the moment, we are one and the same."

Yusuke's brow furrowed though he offered no further comment, too preoccupied with studying me without falling behind. I noted the apprehension pinching his lids, sealing his mouth shut. Anxiety rolled from him in waves, mingling with cinnamon anger and sweat, arms pumping with effort to stay abreast of my long strides.

Soon enough, we were out of the city and stole into the trees, leaping between tree branches with a dancer's grace. Cold fury settled in my chest as I saw the occasional red drop pierce that white, brittle flames racking my navel at the smell of fear – _her_ fear:

It wouldn't be long now.

"Don't we need to stop a minute and think up a plan?" Yusuke's hair grew even as he spoke, the curling marks of the Mazoku lining his face and neck.

"There is not time for that." Such a suggestion was laughable, coming from him, though I could not find the will to muster a smile. Bittersweet power bled through my veins, awakening senses I didn't know I possessed, baser urges I thought impossible for a human.

Yoko reveled in these things, entertaining fantasies of dismembering our prey and dancing in their blood, decorating the forest with their entrails and choice parts. Their deaths would not come easily but were a necessary evil, to send a clear message:

So that none would ever be foolish enough to hurt her again.

"You can't kill them, you know."

My head turned and I realized he was in full control now, a fact that didn't bother me in that moment. If Yoko could find Azumi, get her back and keep her safe, such a thing was fine with me.

Nothing else outweighed her safety.

Yusuke set his jaw, somehow knowing exactly whom he spoke to. "If you kill anyone without Spirit World's say-so, even if it's in self-defense, they can mark you as a criminal again: it'll be open season and, last time I checked, you still have a huge bounty on your head – nowhere'll be safe for you."

"Foolish human." Yoko scoffed, eyes never leaving the sparse trail below. "You act as though this is the first time my life has been forfeit."

"I'm serious!" He seethed, trying and failing to quicken his pace, to stop Yoko in his tracks. "Look, Kurama's worked too hard for–"

"Shuichi agrees with me."

I hummed my ascent, though of course Yusuke couldn't hear me. Pressing at his consciousness, I urged Yoko to voice this, to make him understand.

To my surprise, he obliged. "Life without this woman is pointless, worse than a millennium spent rotting in a cell. If sentencing awaits saving her, then we will be outlaws for the rest of our lives."

Yusuke appeared ready to argue but the scent of blood washed over us again – fresher, stronger – along with a scream from a familiar throat.

Without warning, Yoko dropped to the ground and set off at a sprint, unencumbered by the ankle-deep snow. Yusuke cursed but followed after.

None of us were quite prepared for what we found.

A/N: Inktober prompt 11 – Snow; _Hey You_, Kurama's POV


	12. Prompt 12 Dragon Dome

"All right, we should be safe here."

Yusuke's voice carried a faint echo, panted chords bouncing from the damp walls and moss-ridden floor. The unmistakable scents of mold and dead earth invaded my nose, crawled across wet skin like so many spiders and I stopped, glancing over one shoulder. I watched my cousin bend at the waist to catch his breath, blood trickling down the side of his face. Club forgotten at his side, several strands of loose, dripping hair brushed the floor, the result of our assailants' greedy fingers.

A piercing cry rent the air beyond the waterfall's depths and I turned, hand rising once more to my nape. Kuwabara and Hiei stood side-by-side, weapons ready in their hands, staring unflinchingly at the milky shadows beyond the liquid wall. The knight's body shook with exertion though he did his best to hide it, to not draw attention to the torn folds at his chest, the water weighing his pompadour against his forehead. Hiei set his jaw at the sound of frenzied wings, settling further into his stance, heedless of the red staining his right arm. Familiar wrappings lost in the fray, the dragon tattoo lay bare for all to see, black ink drinking the blood to all appearances.

"Tell that to them!" Kuwabara growled, tensing once more at a shrill shriek.

Glancing toward my cousin, I retreated a step as a clawed hand broke through the water. "What makes you so sure?"

"I live here, remember?" Righting himself against the slick stone, Yusuke sighed, retrieving his fallen weapon. "Trust me, they're not coming in here."

Hiei cut his eyes at him, then, dual rubies narrowed to slits. "Why?"

A shrug. "Nothing comes here; not willingly, anyway. Not even my people." He slung the club atop his shoulder then, heedless of the crimson coating his cheek. "Look, have a staring contest with the crazy chicks if you want, I'm going inside."

Kuwabara turned from the furies, frustrated trill reverberating throughout the space. "Inside _where_?"

"The cave, man, the cave." Yusuke sighed, digging in one ear with his pinkie. "And use your inside voice, the feedback's killing me."

With that, he turned on his heel set off, steps soft against nature's carpet.

Moments passed with no change. The winged women knew exactly where we were, could easily rush through the falls if they so wished, only none of them did. Rather, they continued to circle the space, screeching threats in their strange tongue.

Yusuke's blind assurance registered once more and I straightened, arms falling. "Let's follow him."

"What?" Kuwabara spun to face me, eyes wide, panic making sport of his facial features. "You can't be serious–!"

"If Yusuke says they won't enter here, I believe him." Retreating another step, I turned my back on the water entirely, hand delving into a pocket. "He is the future King of Tourrin, after all."

"Y-yeah, but–"

The sound of metal scraping wood and I felt Hiei at my back, moss smothering his already feather-light steps. "If Kurama is venturing further in, so am I. Stay, be a snack for the birds."

"Screw you!" Kuwabara's sword bit harder into the scabbard than my companion's but that was to be expected; Hiei's experience with blades far surpassed Kuwabara's years. "As if I'd leave the prince unprotected!"

"Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary." Procuring the sought-after seed, I willed it to sprout, murmuring, "_Growan_."

A crack in the kernel and green rose languidly, leaves unfurling as though the plant were yawning. Kuwabara stared in awe at the growth, eyes widening further when I uttered, "_L__ē__oht_."

Light embraced us with loving arms, leaves radiating brightness which reached exactly five feet in diameter. Wordlessly, we set off, following after my cousin.

"I swear, I'll never get used to that." Kuwabara breathed, staring at the flora in my palm.

Chuckling, I kept my eyes on the imprints in the moss, one a regular boot print, the other a bare foot. Yusuke lost a shoe while drawing the furies' attention and, sadly, had no time to retrieve it. "This is nothing compared to what you are capable of."

"You keep saying stuff like that but I don't see it." He dismissed the praise easily, doubt overshadowing his countenance. "I can barely heal a paper cut–"

"Which is already more than I am capable of. Not everyone is blessed with the ability to heal, my friend."

Hiei quickened his pace a fraction of a step, gaze dark and knowing. "Kurama–"

"I know." Of course he would notice the crimson blossoming at my belly, see the stain inching across my tunic front, despite the shadows and dark fabric. "It's nothing, really."

Kuwabara peeked over my shoulder, gaze moving from the luminous fronds to me. "What's nothing?"

"Yusuke's going ahead without us." The lie fell easily, words ringing true for ready ears. "He appears to know the area so there should be no danger here."

"Yeah, that's why we took the mountain pass and look what happened." He muttered, wincing as cloth brushed the shallow wound at his sternum.

Hiei said nothing further on the matter, though he remained by my side, doubtlessly keeping an eye on the aggravated wound. The pain was miniscule – nothing compared to some of the injuries we'd procured thus far – though I knew my companion, and he would not allow me to leave this place without treating it.

Soon enough, the roar of the waterfall fell to a whimper stalactites and stalagmites grew to hinder our path, set as so many aching jaws. My feet never fell from my cousin's path but I couldn't help but join Kuwabara in his admiration, for such things did not exist in Gandara's hills.

A few more yards and we were free of them, though the darkness around us appeared more complete than before.

The knight nearly slipped on the living floor and cursed, wiping at his damp forehead. "How far in does this thing _go_?"

"Honestly, the depth of caves vary, so it's hard to say – some reach as far as the center of the mountain they occupy." I was voicing knowledge birthed from books, yet Kuwabara hung onto every word. Fingers brushing fungi clinging to the walls, I smiled, ignoring the sticky heat at my stomach. "We should be–"

Hiei slid before me, then, steady arm barring my path. "Hiei?"

Silently, he slipped into a ready stance, palms moving to the pommels of his blades. I noted his quickened breath, the anxiety seeping from his skin, the barely audible growl vibrating his vocal chords. "Hiei, what is it?"

Before he could respond, Kuwabara tensed behind me, air leaving his lungs with one word. "_Whoa_."

I followed his line of sight, extending the hand holding the glow wort. Bare rock rose beneath the shadow and, though at first they appeared as the petrified stone from before, I soon noted the smoothness of the rock, along with irrefutable signs of masonry. I shifted only to be stopped by Hiei's look, the wildness in his eyes. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, I stepped from his circle of protection, despite his protests.

Indeed, several stones lay before us, each bigger than my body and crafted by skilled hands. Moving closer still, I saw the first rocks were indeed not natural formations but curving teeth, marble molded after the likeness of fangs. Granite jaws came next, followed by curling lips made of pale amethyst. A proud snout made of topaz rose above them, nostrils dark and foreboding, as if at any moment they would flare with life. Sapphire scales lined the nose and cheekbones, curving around two sets of countless rubies, bordering erect agate horns which brushed the top of the cave. All moisture fled my mouth at the sight for even without prior knowledge, I knew what I beheld; my_ soul _knew, howbeit through a collected conscious or pure instinct.

The image we looked upon was that of a dragon.

A/N: Inktober prompt 12 – Dragon; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV


	13. Prompt 13 Ashes to Ashes

The afternoon found us wrapped in sober silence, Yusuke off hunting some wild game or another, Hiei dwelling within the camp to see to the fire. Kuwabara and I set about gathering wood, a task he could easily handle alone but I would not hear of it. Something ate at the knight's conscience, something dark and vicious. Unspoken emotion stilted his steps, halted his hands, clouded his countenance with such ferocity I feared he would never smile again.

When the breeze carried us from camp to a small copse of trees, my hands set to their tasks, though his back refused to bend to the earth. "Was that your first time experiencing death?"

His fist tightened though otherwise he remained unmoved, face still as stone. "No. Sis and I were both there when dad died. He couldn't protect mom and by the time he got back home . . . it was too late to help. He died in our arms."

I nodded, noting his rigid stature, as though iron rods had replaced his bones. "The loss of life is never easy to endure, especially when you are the bringer of it."

A tightening of the jaw and he lowered himself at my side, gathering sticks into one arm at a snail's pace. The events from earlier that day spread before my eyes unbidden, free-flowing as the clouds above: men had barred our path near the border of Ysbryd, impish bandits hoping to take advantage of any traveler unfortunate enough to travel in the dawn light. Of course, they were sorely disappointed when we refused to relinquish our possessions and a skirmish ensued, during which one of the robbers recognized me. Until then, we'd refrained from spilling blood, content with simply teaching them a lesson; but upon this realization the bandits fought harder, driven by both greed and self-preservation. Their deaths were unavoidable yet I made the mistake of underestimating a desperate man and was separated from the others, not taking into account the possibility he knew the forest's song as well.

Had Kuwabara not struck him down, I would likely have been taken into enemy hands.

"I didn't mind doing that for you." He allowed slowly, still not quite able to look at me. "That's my duty as a knight – to protect the Crown. You chose me for that." I watched his face twist in pain, no doubt remembering the results of his service: the dead eyes staring up at him, the overwhelming stench of blood and other choice fluids, his shame in retching twice near the body. "I just–"

Words failed and he ground his jaw, twig snapping in his hand. I waited patiently for him to gather himself, knowing he neither wanted nor would accept an apology.

"I don't understand how this doesn't bother _him_!"

My lips parted at the admission, though I quickly schooled my expression into a regulated calm. There was only one 'he' for Kuwabara – one man who needed no introduction and whose presence stirred nothing short of aggression. "You believe Hiei is unmoved by such things?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?" He snarled, finally meeting my gaze. "You saw him today, didn't you? How he killed three of them without batting an eye? Then, he called me weak when I couldn't look at the bodies–!"

Something akin to hatred burned in his eyes, not unlike the look many in father's court gave my companion whenever he happened to come up in conversation or stroll down the halls.

I would not stand for it here. "Come with me."

"What?" He started as I dropped my load, rising from the grass. "But why? We still have to–"

"Take care not to make a sound, or what befalls you will be on your own head."

Consternation lit his face as he followed, confusion at my drastic change in demeanor and the glacial quality of my voice, though I offered him no explanation. When I moved, he followed without hesitation, careful to lighten his steps. Once again, I applauded his loyalty, his steadfast faith in me, though such things could not be voiced now. No, he had to see this for himself, to be made to understand.

As we neared camp, I extended an arm, biding him forward and raising a finger to my lips. Kuwabara obeyed, sliding silently onto his stomach and gazing through the brush, eyes fixed on our campsite. Hiei sat by the fire still, twilight dying his skin a honeyed tone as he stared at the flames. Precious moments passed and we watched him watch the sputtering tongues, subtle shifts of color reflecting off his eyes.

Then, just when Kuwabara showed the first signs of discomfort, he moved. Rising to his knees, Hiei removed both scabbards from their places at his hips with practiced precision, laying the weapons at his side. Then, he unbound the wrappings at his right hand and wrist before taking up one of the blades again, arm following some form I did not know. Lids pressing shut, he tilted the sword til it ran perpendicular with the ground, lips mouthing silent words.

A crackling of wood and red peeked beneath his lashes, mouth sealing shut before running the blade across his bared wrist.

Kuwabara started but managed to stifle his cry before it began, inner cheek disappearing between his jaws. He glanced at me but I shook my head, pointing back toward Hiei with my chin. I'd seen this more times than I could count; Kuwabara needed to watch until the end.

Hiei watched the blood well from the cut, pain never once registering on his face. Rather, he watched the display dispassionately, ruby irises utterly detached as he opened and closed his right hand, coaxing even more red from the wound. At last, he turned his arm downward, so that the blood could fall to the earth. Unsatisfied with progression, however, Hiei gripped his forearm, ringing more and more life from muscle and flesh.

At last, he allowed his arm to drop, slick fingers mixing together the blood and ash until a clumped concoction emerged, a semi-solid dyed crimson. Removing his headband, he spread the tainted ash across his face as many women would cosmetics, coating cheeks, nose, even his ears. He did not stop until none of the skin on his head was bare. Gathering the remaining mixture into one palm, he sprinkled them on the fire, causing the flames to sputter and spit. Darkened lips tracing another handful of words, he bowed low and stood, white cloth and dirtied blade gripped in his left hand as he made his way toward the nearby stream.

Moving into camp, I left Kuwabara to gather the wood left behind, returning to find him still alone there. Even given time alone to think, it took quite a while for my friend to speak.

When his voice returned, however, it breached the air with a soft question. "Wh . . . what was that?"

"I'm not quite sure myself." I admitted softly, breaking branches before placing them on the fire. "Even after witnessing it so many times, I've never been able to ask him what any of it means."

Reason slowly returned to Kuwabara as he stared at the flames, the spot where Hiei knelt moments before. "Then, then that–"

"Correct. Each time Hiei takes a life, he performs that ritual. The location and words may differ, though two things remain constant – ashes and his blood. He also prostrates himself every time; this has been a regular act for him since we were children."

Thankfully, he didn't ask what he already knew. Though it was common knowledge Hiei had been forced to kill for my sake from the beginning, few thought anything of it, of a child taking the life of another.

"All life is precious to him, from the smallest flower to the most despicable mortal." I kept my voice low though I knew he saw the unspoken threat in my eyes, a definite sheen human beings did not possess. "Do not question such a thing again."

Hiei returned shortly thereafter, Yusuke arriving on his heels with a small doe slung across both shoulders. Though the two fell into their normal banter, I noted Kuwabara studying my companion's clean face and dampened tunic collar, the moisture wrinkling the cloth at his forehead.

Of course, Hiei noticed his attentions as well for he scowled, nose wrinkling. "What, fool?" When he didn't answer, Hiei glanced to the pitiful pile of wood, scoffing. "Pathetic. Can't you even do a woman's job?" A smirk lit his lips then, red eyes glinting. "Or are you afraid of being alone in the dark?"

"I-in your dreams, shorty!" Kuwabara barked, scrambling to his feet to glare down at him. "I'll have you know I can gather way more wood than you because I'm a man! You got that? A _man_!"

Hiei rolled his eyes and crouched beside Yusuke's kill, clean sword brandished in his hand. "Get to it, then, unless you prefer to eat like this barbarian."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with raw meat!"

And thus began another uneventful evening.

A/N: Inktober Prompt 13 – Ashes; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV


	14. Prompt 14 Tangled

The day started as most Wednesdays did.

Another uneventful day at work found me wanting, steps drifting without my permission from the usual path home. Of course, they led to a gym two train stops away from my destination, straight to _her_.

Azumi materialized through the glass front of the facility, in the final throes of a light warm-up before her class. Legs spread wide atop the yoga mat, she leaned over first one shin then the other, hands gripping foot and ankle until her chest brushed her knee. Then, holding both legs, she leaned forward and, when that stretch proved insufficient, used her arms to propel her further forward, fingers crawling across the floor toward the street.

When she straightened and saw me, she smiled, motioning me inside. Swallowing, I did my best to ignore the heat blossoming at my navel, to expel the image of her using her body as a plaything. Of course, _he_ savored the image, running over it again and again in the back of my mind.

Ignoring the dark thoughts of my companion, I entered the building to find her waiting for me, hair done up in a messy bun. "You're late – thought I'd have to start without you."

I do not know which excited me more, that she expected me or that such a thing gave me comfort. Of course, he did not remain unmoved by this, pushing aside all thoughts in order to watch her. My visits here were sporadic at best – unplanned and infrequent – yet somehow she knew I would come today, compromising an unbending schedule for a few sparse minutes in order for me to do so.

Heat returned though of a different nature, cinders arching through my chest.

"Apologies, a client held me longer than expected."

She hummed, a sound carrying the warmth of cinnamon as she led the way to a predestined corner of the gym, where several young men and women waited. However, before we'd quite arrived, she slowed and glanced up at me. "Mind helping me with something?"

The request caught me off guard though I hid it behind a smile. "Of course."

Stopping just beyond the rubber mat, she turned, fingers pressing to my suit coat. "You may want to do something about . . . that."

I glanced down at her hand on my lapel, nails grazing my tie. The sight of red on red tightened my throat; I could almost hear her pulse at my heart. Unbidden, thoughts came of her taking hold of that tie, a husky chuckle bubbling as she led wherever she wished, just like a–

Yoko's laugh broke the spell as much as her relinquished hand, falling to her side as she turned to greet her students. '_A masochist, are we?_'

I bid him silent and tugged the tie loose, folding my jacket neatly by her gym bag and rolling up both sleeves. This would not do; I had to gain control over myself, _needed_ to–

He would have none of it. '_She would humor you, if you asked_.'

Grinding my jaw, I folded the tie before placing it atop the jacket, movements slow, deliberate. I refused to dwell on what he would do with the accessory, or would have her do in return for use of it. The thought tugged at my gut, tingled down my spine–

Thankfully, there was no time for such things. "All right everyone, today we're going to work on choke holds."

Tongue shrinking back into my throat, my lips parted without permission, stricken both by horror and surprise. Azumi stepped aside, raising a hand in my direction. "This is Mr. Minamino, a friend I asked to help with this meeting. Please be kind to him."

A dozen heads bowed to me, though pleasantries were the last thing on my mind. "What are you–"

"Now, what's the first thing you do when a conflict arises?"

A hand shot in the air, a thin girl with large eyes. "Deescalate."

"True but for today's exercise, we're moving past that point." She observed her class as a whole, mouth twisting. "Choke holds are a different beast than what we've been studying because they depend on your opponent catching you off-guard, forcing your brain to shut off and instinct to take over. And what is the most dangerous weapon you possess?"

A man this time, taller than Kuwabara and nearly twice his width. "Your mind."

"Correct." My eyes never left Azumi as she stalked toward me, muscles flowing effortlessly beneath her black tank top and tights. I knew Yoko appreciated the view as well though he allowed as much only by a low hum, hanging onto her every word. "And guys, don't think this is lesson for the girls: you can be choked out as easily as a woman, just like both men and women can be raped. Are we clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

Nodding, she stepped closer still, eyes trained on my open shirt collar for reasons unknown to me. "There are three types of choke holds, one which can work only from behind, another only from the front, while the last works both ways."

I still couldn't believe this was happening as she raised her head, eyes boring into mine. "Mr. Minamino, your hands, please."

Swallowing, I raised my arms for her, allowing her take my wrists despite my better judgment, to place both palms at either side of her neck. "When you're choking, what's obviously going to be your first objective?"

"Air." Another girl responded, though I did not see her face, dared not break Azumi's gaze.

"Right. First, we'll look at a normal choke using two hands. What I'm about to show you works if your opponent uses one hand, though most people like the feel of both hands being occupied." Crossing both of my thumbs over her larynx, she smiled, releasing her hold. "Alright, go."

All moisture fled my mouth and I slowly shook my head, the beginnings of something dark stirring deep within. "Azumi–"

"It's okay, you won't hurt me." That smile shifted into a smirk as she swallowed, the motion causing her throat to expand and close beneath my hands. "Squeeze as if you were really trying to choke me."

Yoko growled in my ear and the shaded arousal – for it _was_ arousal – shifted once more, tracing down my thighs and up the nape of my neck. Her pulse hammered against my fingers as I did her bidding, tightening my grip until her windpipe was completely blocked.

For a moment, I feared I'd squeezed too hard for she simply stared at me, unblinking, unafraid. Then, her fingers gripped my thumbs while her own thumbs found the pressure points on the back of my hands, pressing both at the same time with ruthless precision. Liquid fire raced through my fingers and I let go, an action she aided by twisting both hands away from her. She ended the demonstration with a feinted kick to my exposed abdomen, forcing my torso down so that, in actual comment, her knee would connect to my nose.

"Did everyone see that?" Her students nodded, speechless as I closed both hands into fists, willing proper feeling to return. "Good; break up into teams and try it on each other. When everyone has successfully broken out, we'll move onto the next one."

Over an hour later, I sat on a secluded bench in the locker room, staring at reddened palms. Azumi chose me as her partner for each demonstrated choke hold – four in all. All but the first had to be repeated more than once, though each found my resolve dwindling further and further. I could handle acting as a sparring partner – I knew how much damage the human body could safely endure – though strangling her was another story entirely. Azumi did not always attempt to break out immediately, but rather floundered at times, showing her students the difference between allowing panic and logic to dictate the situation. The feel of her weakened pulse remained still against my skin, the darkening pallor of her skin–

'_You enjoyed it, though_.'

Shaking my head, I balled both fists atop my lap, biding him to shut up. The sight of her completely at my mercy, even if such a thing were an illusion, terrified me and, if I were completely honest, thrilled some hidden part. Like most things, I could not determine if this was normal to the human experience or not: such information could not be gleaned from books, and the only man I could think to ask would laugh at me outright. No, this must remain a secret. It–

"Shuichi?"

Soft steps preceded the voice and I stood, ready when she rounded the corner. Fresh from the showers, Azumi rotated her neck first this way, then that, a towel draped across her shoulders. A navy blouse had replaced the tank-top, cotton slacks perfectly hemmed at the ankle flirting with her tennis shoes. Her damp hair rested against the towel, ends dripping with moisture.

"Sorry about that, I always like to shower before heading home. Thanks for waiting on me."

"It was no trouble."Even as I spoke, my eyes traveled to the bruises at her throat, marks she'd forced me to leave before finally breaking my hold. "Azumi–"

"I know, I should have warned you about the class beforehand." Waving my chastisement away, she lowered herself to the bench, beckoning me to join her. She offered nothing more by way of apology but then, in her eyes, everything was over and done.

Rather, she procured a thick bristled brush from her bag. "Let me brush your hair."

I blinked, staring at the thing as if it were a foreign object. "I beg your pardon?"  
"You heard me, let me brush your hair. You're a mess; we can't have you going into public looking like that!"

Before I could protest further, she took up a strand and set to work, weaving each unknotted lock between her fingers. I fought the urge to sigh at her attentions, each stroke unexpectedly gentle, as though being caressed by the wind. No one aside from mother had ever brushed my hair, though many girls offered in both junior and high school, each of which I politely denied. The bristles massaging my scalp relaxed me in a way I hadn't known since boyhood, and when she combed through the finished strands with her fingers, I nearly fell asleep.

Nearly halfway through the process, she finally broke the silence. "You have beautiful hair." Shifting to stand behind me, she leaned forward, black ends tickling my ear. "Must be a pain to take care of."

I chuckled, reaching up to touch her own hair, moving it against my own. "Yours is lovely as well. I don't believe I've ever seen it this long."

A puff of air and she shook her head, drawing back to work at the crown of my head. "Don't get used to it, I'm getting it cut soon."

Raising a brow, I tilted my head back, heedless of the pulling of the brush. "Why? Long hair suites you."

She crouched down, intent on repairing the damage despite our awkward positions. "It's overgrown; I have my reasons. Why do you insist on keeping your hair red when it'd be easier to dye it black?"

Smiling, I remembered the first time she saw a girl approach me because of my hair and work attire, all in hopes of acquiring a well-off foreigner as a lover. "Because this is my natural color; I see no point in changing it."

"There you go."

We continued in silence for a moment, a quiet broken only by the soft flow of the brush. Then, "May I ask one thing of you?"

Her voice at my right ear, the job nearly done. "I guess so, after the stunt I pulled today."

Still, it took some time for me to voice the request, the words refusing to come until the last stroke left my hair. "Can I brush your hair before you cut it?"

I honestly didn't expect her to say yes and, what's more, to hand over her instrument and sit beside me, content with beginning the task then. Never before had I handled someone's hair and took care to not pull excessively against her tangles, so much so that it took longer for me to brush her hair, even though her tresses were shorter than mine. She laughed at my gentleness, at treating each strand as it were made of gold, though there was no way I could make her understand my feelings on the matter. The feeling of her hair flowing through my fingers filled me with wonder, indescribably soft and well-cared for, despite her career field.

More than anything, however, I relished the sight of our essences mixing together, red hairs escaping the bristles to mingle with raven tresses.

A/N: Inktober prompt 14 – Overgrown; _Hey You_, Kurama's POV.


	15. Prompt 15 Legend of the Dragon Boy

"Whoa . . ."

Words failed at what lay before us, the sight beyond the gaping mouth. A yawning cavern unfurled before us, lit only by the faintest sunlight from above. Scalloped walls lined the space whereas the moss ceased at the door, leaving bare rock in its place. What drew my attention was not the darkness, the lack of flora nor the slimy substance beneath my palm:

No, that role belonged to the stone monolith sequestered in shadow.

Easily a third the size of father's castle, the structure stretched upward, nearly brushing the impossible ceiling at its peak. A definite curved shape, there was no denying the stone hadn't been formed by nature, for neither wind nor rain could acquire those angles, the minute twists and turns outlined by the glowing plant.

Movement at the left of the monolith and Hiei slipped into a ready stance before me, hands on either pommel. Growl bubbling in his throat, I did not need to see to know his expression: lips curled to reveal pale gums, wrinkled nose drawing attention to piercing eyes and away from his hands, hands which would kill for me at a moment's notice.

Thankfully, such a thing was unnecessary. "What're you so jumpy for? Didn't I say nothing would follow us in here?"

The clacking of rocks proceeded the voice, sparks falling to ignite a sparse pile of sticks. Crouching low, Yusuke blew carefully on the embers, feeding the bright speckles kindling from an unknown source until a cheerful blaze lit the space. Along with revealing his smiling face, however, the light touched the behemoth at his back and my response died on my tongue. For it was not a statue constructed on an enormous scale, nor some foul prank of the mountain. No–

What shared the cavern with us was nothing less than a petrified dragon corpse.

The beast appeared even larger in the pale light, Kuwabara only slightly bigger than one of it toes. No color remained in the poignant scales marring his body though his spines were sharp as ever, racing from tail tip to the crown of his head in an unbroken row. Twin horns rested above webbed ears, jagged things which had surely seen their fare share of blood. His eyes and lips remained closed in death, frozen by time and this strange phenomenon, yet even then the creature seemed wrapped in slumber, facial muscles relaxed and at peace.

"Don't worry, he's not going to hurt ya." Yusuke stuffed his pipe with wares from his pouch and, taking a twig, lit the tobacco from the small flame, puffing until purple smoke fell from his lips. "Boyo's been here way longer than we have."

Kuwabara's mouth hung open still, staring at the thing with mixed wonderment and horror. For his part, Hiei remained in a shallow crouch and it was only when I ventured closer that I saw his shrunken pupils, irises flecks of blood against the whites of his eyes. My companion's face adopted a sickly hue and he swallowed, nostrils flaring, both hands trembled ever so slightly. "Hiei?"

His name on my tongue appeared to break the spell for he shook his head, straightening before slipping the offending appendages into his cloak.

"What _is_ that?" Kuwabara breathed, daring to inch closer.

Yusuke cocked a brow, pipe lolling to the other side of his mouth as he crossed both arms across his chest. "You've never seen a dragon before?"

"Uh, no! They're not exactly lying . . . around." His voice trailed away, staring up again at the stone figure.

"Fair point." My cousin sat before his fire, back leaned against the dragon's foot. "Beasties aren't common here but this guy's an exception." He glanced over one shoulder, smirking up at the great head. "He and my people go way back."

Brow furrowing, I left Hiei's side to step into the light, bidding the plant in my hand to return to a seed. "What are you talking about, Yusuke? All the Dragons left Tourrin during the Great War. You know this better than anyone."

"Yeah, but haven't you ever wondered how the Dragon's War started?" He sneered, bare foot crossing over his booted ankle. "Bet that's not in your stuffy books!"

"We don't have time for fairy tales!" Hiei ground out, though his voice lacked its usual bite. Pale face visible even from here, he glared from my back, fierce ruby beacons in the darkness. "Or have you forgotten the reason we came here?"

Pursing his lips, Yusuke twisted a braid around one finger, expelling smoke from his nose. "'course not, though we're not going anywhere til they give up the hunt." He motioned back the way we came, toward the falls and the furies. "And that'll take an hour at least, maybe two."

Another growl and Hiei turned on his heel, stalking to the cavern entrance. "Oi! Where are you going?"

He paused, granting my cousin a cursory glance. "Someone needs to stand guard in case they breach the cave."

Yusuke blinked, confusion lighting his face. "I told you, they're not going to–"

"Even fools can be brave when they're desperate." With that he slipped through the stone mouth, swallowed by the shadows.

While I held some reservations on sharing a room with a corpse, I trusted my cousin's judgment. Lowering myself across from Yusuke, I waited until Kuwabara sat at my side to meet his gaze. "I apologize for Hiei's outburst. He did not mean–"

"Hey, we're stuck in the middle of the mountains, man – he can talk to me however he wants." Digging once more in his ear, he closed his eyes, fang peeking from his mouth. "If he wants to waste time chasing ghosts, that's on him."

I nodded but said nothing, sure Hiei could hear despite the distance between us. "You mentioned the Great War." The words were slow in coming, each containing countless possibilities.

He opened one eye to flick something from his pinkie, disinterested as I'd ever seen him. "Yeah?"

Praying for patience, I leaned forward, in no mood for his games. "If you know something about the Great War that isn't recorded, why haven't you consulted a scribe?"

Yusuke laughed, as if the event which formed the identity of our kingdoms meant nothing. "It _is_ recorded in our tomes, fox boy. Everything about that war is common knowledge in Tourrin."

Kuwabara cleared his throat, attempting to focus his gaze upon my cousin despite the being looming over us. "Then why doesn't Gandara know about it? Is it some kind of secret?"

"No, no one ever bothered to ask; everyone was too busy with politics and all that crap."

This struck me as odd, yet not out of character for the Oni. Yusuke's people were a proud race and though they showed no mercy to their enemies, they were taught from childhood that, aside from running from battle, lying is the worst sin a man can commit. Some took this code to extremes: either speaking whatever fell into their head, like my cousin, or keeping silent save when words were absolutely necessary, such as Hokushin. Most, however, took the middle ground, making games of conversation and, at times, seeing how far the truth could be bent without lying.

"Then tell us," I fought not to wince as I straightened, reminded once more of the would at my abdomen. "How did the Great War begin?"

Leaning back against the protruding ankle, Yusuke took a long drag, carefully blowing smoke rings above the fire. "Everything started with him." He allowed slowly, fingers tracing a scale with unexpected fondness. Pondering a moment, he stopped, cutting his eyes at me. "You don't even know his name, do you?"

I fought the urge to sigh, forcing out instead "I believe that has already been established."

"Zabir." He shook his head slowly, braids and loose strands falling together across his shoulders. "The last Dragon King."

Kuwabara's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "B–but Dragon's don't _have_ a King! They had regiment leaders for their armies, captains, generals–"

"Keyword, _last_ King." Yusuke sighed, tilting his head back. "Zabir inherited his title after the former King died–"

"This sounds like a long story." The knight muttered, doubtlessly finally feeling the brunt of some of his injuries.

"Just shut up and listen!" Yusuke growled, glaring at the human before his gaze traveled heavenward once more. "Zabir became King when his old man croaked, one of the youngest of his kind to ever gain the crown. They tell time differently than we do but, development-wise, he was only a seven year old kid when he became King."

A puff of air and Kuwabara breathed, "But he had advisers and stuff right, so he was like a regent until he got old enough to rule?"

"Nope. Even though he was young their laws still recognized him as King, and though a good ruler always listens to his people, there was no one there to pull his strings – Zabir had to learn how to rule on his own."

"Was . . . was he a _bad_ King?"

"Un-uh, Zabir was smart and caught onto things quick. You think court in Gandara is dangerous, imagine one made up of only dragons." He grinned, taking another drag. "No, Zabir was a good King. He only had one flaw in the eyes of his people."

When he paused I sighed, taking the bait. "Which was?"

Yusuke smirked, bringing both hands to rest behind his head. "He loved mortals."

A pregnant pause and I felt a lead weight settle in my stomach, lids pinching ever so slightly.

"You heard that right, he loved beings that weren't his own kind. See, this isn't well known even among my people, but back then Dragons could take on human form. Before he became King, Zabir would sneak out and play with children from neighboring villages at the base of the mountain he lived in, taking on the form of a boy. None of the kids knew his secret, though some of his kin had an problem with it." He shifted the pipe in his mouth again, gaze growing pensive. "He never forgot about his friends though and, when he grew up, returned to the base of that mountain and visited one of their descendants – a pretty human girl with blonde hair and big brown eyes."

Kuwabara leaned forward, gripping his knees. "What'd he do with the girl?"

"What else? He married her." The knight recoiled but he continued anyway, fingers tapping at his knuckles. "Of course, he told her what he was beforehand and gave her the chance to say no, but she didn't. One of those 'love at first sight' kind of things." Yusuke made a face; my cousin had never been fond of romance. "He loved Queen Isla, though, and they had a bunch of kids."

The scene he painted was ideal, yet I remembered what started this conversation, the war which ravaged Gandara and its neighbors. "But?"

He shrugged, though unexpected sadness tinged his gaze. "Like I said, Dragons tell time differently. Before Zabir knew it, his bride grew old and, like all things, passed on. She died in his arms."

"That's–" Kuwabara swallowed, a frown marring his face. "That's so sad."

Sighing, Yusuke sat up and dumped his pipe, refilling the bowl as he spoke. "Other than his dad, Zabir'd never lost anyone before and none of his subjects knew how to comfort him. He couldn't eat or sleep, and he wouldn't let them bury Isla; said he'd devour her before he allowed her to rot in the ground, and that's just what he did."

The knight recoiled, staring at the unfeeling stone with open disgust.

"Losing her drove him crazy – it literally drove him crazy." Lighting the concoction once more, he gave a few courteous puffs, embers reflecting in his eyes. "Zabir turned on some of his own people, attacking them over nothing. They didn't hold it against him, though: most of them had never lost someone they loved because Dragons usually stay to themselves, and it'd happened to their King twice. He didn't know how to handle the grief and no one could tell him how. Zabir maintained his love for mortals til the end, though, recalling childhood memories of them even on his deathbed."

Taking another drag, Yusuke released a great plume of smoke, watching it fade to nothing above the flames. "After Zabir passed, the Dragons decided to rid the land of mortals, any being not of their blood. The massacres started in Tourrin and effected the humans, the Tengu, everyone. When peace talks fell through, the mortals did the only thing they could think of – they stole Zabir's body."

"What?" Kuwabara exclaimed, face paling.

"Yep, they never saw it coming: when the Dragons were out on a raid one night, the Tengu snuck into their mountain fortress and raided their burial cave, taking Zabir's body with them. Tough job but those birds are way stronger than they look; they were able to hide him here before the Dragons got back." He grinned. "Didn't take em long to find this place though! Big body reeked for miles from what I heard! Anyway, they demanded him back and the Tengu refused unless they left Tourrin. At first, they refused; but then one day they crossed the border into Gandara and never came back.

"They didn't say why until way later, though, when a lone Tengu scout happened across one near the border." Yusuke sneered, teeth clenched around the pipe. "Turns out they couldn't even get near the body! Whenever they got too close to Zabir's cave, something went off in their heads and they felt like they were going crazy. The feeling drove them further and further from the body until, finally, it stopped at where The Wake is now – that's why that spot became a Dragon stronghold."

Mind whirling, I tipped my head forward, chin tucking. "You mean even after leaving, they never collected their stolen King?"

"Nope, they couldn't. The Tengu felt so bad for them that, when he told his people in the mountains, they decided to switch sides entirely, fighting with the Dragons in Gandara." Another drag and he sighed, scratching at his chest. "You know the rest of the story, Gandara gets _that_ much of it right."

I glanced at the dead Dragon once more strangely moved by his serene expression. "And no living thing willingly comes here because of him?"

"Yep, most won't come near this mountain at all. Dragons retain a lot of power in their bodies even after they die – it takes years for all that to leak out! But I'm not most people." Dumping the ashes once more onto the fire, he smirked as the tongues ate away the gray. "He and I get along just fine."

A/N: Inktober prompt 15 – Legend; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV

**This is a continuation from Dragon. I wanted to include them both in the same prompt but it seemed unfair to restrain them to just one. **


	16. Prompt 16 And Her Eyes Were Wild

I started under her expectant gaze, attempting to pass the book back to her. "Really, this is unnecessary–"

"No, it's not." She urged patiently, pressing the volume to my chest. "You asked about poetry, said you knew nothing about it – what better way to learn?"

Swallowing, I did my best to ignore the dryness of my mouth, the feel of her calloused hands pressed to mine. "But, how does one recite such a thing? Your tastes vary widely from the works I'm familiar with."

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of traditional Japanese forms." She frowned, nose wrinkling at the thought. Soon enough, however, she shook off the sensation, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand. "You're fluent in English, right?"

The sun shifted beyond her window, blocked by some building or another and casting shadows entirely inappropriate for this time of day. Her hair curled expertly beneath her chin, black turtleneck tracing lines I'd memorized long ago, contours I wished to experience personally. White slacks hugged her legs as she glided to the book shelf, selecting her own book. I noted the way the material sang against her skin as she stood on her tiptoes, back arched, buttocks tense with effort.

Shaking my head, I refused to linger on the image, despite the satisfied purrs creeping up my spine. "Allow me." She jumped at my voice by her ear though made no protest as I reached easily above her head, procuring the desired volume.

"Thanks." She smiled, a expression becoming ever easier in my presence. Opening the book to the desired page, she tucked it beneath one arm before taking mine, flipping the red-covered collection and flipping several pages until she was satisfied. "Okay, this is what we're working with."

I glanced down as she handed the book back, brow raising at the title. "_Le Belle Dame sans Merci_?"

"Don't worry about that; the poem's English, even though it has a French title."

"Yes, I can see that." My eyes followed the words in the desired tongue, a language almost as familiar to me as my own. "Though why did the poet title his work so?"

"Why does anyone do anything?" She shrugged, tucking a strand behind one ear. "If the meaning is bugging you, the title translates 'The Beautiful Lady Without Pity'. Now, no more excuses – we need to practice if we're going to be ready for tonight."

I sighed, opposed to her plan still but knowing nothing I could say would stop her.

"I'll take the part of the onlookers, you play the knight. Just follow my lead and you'll be fine." Azumi cleared her throat, arm outstretched as she entreated:

"_O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,_

_Alone and palely loitering?_

_The sedge has withered from the lake,_

_And no birds sing._"

Her mouth shaped each word perfectly, and there was only the barest trace of an accent there. Body moving with a dancer's grace, she put feeling into every line, giving this personal performance everything she had.

Glancing my way, she smirked, fingers curling against her clavicle.

"_O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,_

_So haggard and so woe-begone?_

_The squirrel's granary is full,_

_And the harvest's done._

_I see a lily on thy brow,_

_With anguish moist and fever-dew,_

_And on the cheeks a fading rose_

_Fast withereth too._"

She paused, gaze expectant. Another steadying sigh and I glanced at the book in my hands, willing myself to remember her enunciation, pauses; the feeling in each note:

"_I met a lady in the meads,_

_Full beautiful – a faery's child,_

_Her hair was long, her foot was light,_

_And her eyes were wild._"

The last came out softly, barely above a whisper and I stared at her. Azumi smirked in that knowing way of hers, arms crossed beneath her bosom. Her eyes were indeed wild in that moment, gray gleaming beneath her bangs, twin typhoons which answered to nothing or no one.

I would do anything to protect those eyes.

"_I made a garland for her head,_

_And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;_

_She looked at me as she did love,_

_And made sweet moan_"

She allowed my to brush my fingertips through her hair at the first line, to circle her wrist with the second. As the stanza neared its end, I noted a subtle shift in expression, that wildness tipping toward something deeper, darker.

Something I wished to know.

"_I set her on my pacing steed,_

_And nothing else saw all day long,_

_For sidelong would she bend, and sing_

_A faery's song._

_ She found me roots of relish sweet,_

_And honey wild, and manna-dew,_

_And sure in language strange she said–_

_ 'I love thee true'._ "

Yoko listened intently, watching the tilt of her lips, the curve of her jaw, the light dancing in her eyes. Already, his gears worked, trying to decipher the meaning of this work, though I could not focus on such a thing. Her gaze was upon me, hopeful, expectant, so I went on:

"_She took me to her Elfin grot,_

_And there she wept and sighed full sore,_

_And there I shut her wild wild eyes_

_With kisses four._

_And there she lullèd me asleep,_

_And there I dreamed–Ah! woe betide!–_

_The latest dream I ever dreamt_

_On the cold hill side._"

My eyes widened at the next line but I read on anyway, hoping the desperation of the man seeped through:

"_I saw pale kings and princes, too,_

_Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;_

_They cried–'La Belle Dame sans Merci_

_Thee hath in thrall!'_

_I saw their starved lips in the gloam,_

_With horrid warning gapèd wide,_

_And I awoke and found me here,_

_On the cold hill's side._"

She nodded as my voice dropped, ever the sympathetic listener. Biting at my inner cheek, I bid my voice to soften, for such the stanza required.

"_And this is why I sojourn here,_

_Alone and palely loitering,_

_Though the sedge is withered from the lake,_

_And no birds sing._"

No lines remained, though I turned the page to be sure, alarmed at the abruptness of the ending. "That is quite a poem."

She accepted my quiet appraisal gracefully, gaze roving over the words once again. "I've always loved it. This is one of the works that got me into British poetry. I can probably recite it in my sleep."

I pondered this as she read the poem again to herself, humming softly all the while. "What happens to him, the knight?"

Shrugging, she gripped the book before bending down, retrieving the half-filled coffee cup from the low table. "That's the thing, we never know." Taking a sip, Azumi allowed the warmth to fill her, staring into the black liquid. "I'd like to think he was able to go on with his life but she took something from him, something precious he couldn't get back."

A beat of silence and she corrected herself, maintaining a tight grip on the mug. "No, that's not quite right. The knight _gave_ himself to her, everything he had, and she took it and ran, just like she did with all the others."

I shifted the collection to my other hand, reaching for my cup as well. "Why do you believe that is?"

Another shrug. "Some people are afraid of commitment, others love being in love." She traced the rim of her cup, gaze darkening further. "Some fear what's inside of them, especially when they see how beautiful someone else is."

The cup froze its ascent, hovering near my mouth. I forced my expression into a masked calm though Yoko watched her more closely still, brimming on the edge of my consciousness. "Azumi–"

"We need to go through it again." A shameless grin and she shattered the spell, turning once more to face me. "Can't have you bombing on me tonight at Black Lotus – I have a reputation, you know."

A/N: Inktober prompt 16 – Wild; _Hey You_, Kurama's POV


	17. Prompt 17 Ornamental Baws

Gone.

Everything became obnoxiously loud, blithering eye-witnesses, the keening wind – even my own breath – though my hands wouldn't rise to cover my ears. The fool said something I couldn't hear, eyes fixed on the sight before us: a torn olive sash, flageolet broken into pieces; the splattering of blood mixed with scarlet strands, liquid congealed burgundy, coating seeds that even then attempted to bloom:

Gone.

The fox was gone.

Kuwabara said something but I couldn't hear his words, couldn't tear my eyes from the Prince's blood. Unbidden, memories of our childhood together came, all the attempted kidnappings and assassinations, all the times I kept him safe. That was the reason I was allowed to stay – because the King knew I'd keep him safe. Kurama's guarded smile, the look in his eye when he concocted mischief; the smoldering rage at any perceived wrong committed against a loved one, that naive sense of justice . . . I wanted to protect all of it.

But I wasn't strong enough – the evidence lay at my feet.

"Hiei."

A grip on my shoulder and I snarled, hands falling to either sword as I turned on the perpetrator. Yusuke remained unmoved by my anger though his normal light-hearted look was gone, replaced instead by steely determination. "I'm going after them."

His words registered along with a silent request and I nodded, allowing my arms to fall once more.

"Wait a sec, I want to go, too!" The fool chimed in as I crouched low, taking the ruined garment carefully in my hands. "He's–" Suddenly conscious of the commoners surrounding us, he stopped, swallowing. "He's my friend too; I want to help."

I saw Yusuke smirk, placing his ridiculous instrument into the hands of the innkeeper along with a silver coin. "Sure you can keep up with us? Hiei won't slow down for you and I won't, either."

Ignoring their pointless dribble, I lifted the cotton cloth to my nose, inhaling deeply. Few knew of my heightened senses in Gandara, though Yusuke had quickly discovered them from some ridiculous game when we were children. Day-old trails were nothing to me and, if the scent was fresh, no one in the world could hide from me.

Sweet moss and crushed bark filled my nostrils, along with an unfamiliar scent, sawdust mingling with earth, along with Valerian root and hops.

Jaw tightening at the implications, I stood, turning first one way, then another. When the breeze carried his scent to me, I sped after it, cloth still clutched in one hand.

"Hey!" Thundering feet announced their pursuit but I didn't care, focused only on finding Kurama. We left the village behind in the blink of an eye, plunging into the hills in the dying light.

Somehow, Kuwabara kept up with us; he couldn't run abreast with me though he never stopped, maintaining a steady pace several feet back. Yusuke came to my side with three loping strides, club brandished in one hand. "What'd you find?"

"Three of them, two humans and an Alp. They used some concoction of Valerian root and hops; I assume the Alp is holding him there."

Yusuke cursed, hair flying behind him like a great cape. "You sure there's a Nightmare with them?"

I nodded, returning my gaze forward.

"W. . .what's a N-nightmare?" Kuwabara panted, voice nearly lost to the wind.

"Exactly what it sounds like – a beastie that makes you have bad dreams." Yusuke glanced over one shoulder, steps never faltering. "Fall asleep around one and you're a dead man, you won't wake up til it let's you."

A grunt as the human did his best to quicken his pace, breathing steady but slightly labored already. "But, that shouldn't be an is-issue as long as Kurama's awake, right?"

I ignored him, grip tightening on the fox's sash. The fool apparently didn't know basic botany and I didn't have Kurama's knack for hand-holding.

We found them meandering down the weed-choked road shortly before dark, an inconspicuous bunch traveling with a wagon drawn by a donkey. One man sat at the head of the vehicle while another nearly Kuwabara's size walked alongside it, a double-headed ax tucked in his belt. A woman wearing a drawn hood sat within the wagon's confines, wooden slats shielding her partially from view. The sight was normal enough and any other time I may have mistaken them for merchants, though their lack of cargo drew my attention.

The heady smell of blood didn't help.

I didn't need to say anything to Yusuke. As soon as he caught sight of the wagon he released chilling cry, bringing the club down with all his might. The earth broke open upon impact, a fissure stretching to swallow the back half of the wagon. Both humans clambered away from the braying beast with a yell though the woman remained calm, leaping gracefully from the collapsed container, treasure held surely against her breast. Kurama remained unmoving despite the commotion, draped across the woman's arms like a linen garment. My stomach tightened when I saw both arms tied behind his back, the peaceful slumber masking his face–

The sticky matting at the base of his skull.

Yusuke appeared at my side when Kuwabara's steps finally ceased, gasping breaths impossibly loud in my ears. "Let him go."

"Sorry, that just won't do." She smiled, fangs peeking between her lips as she knelt to the ground, cradling the fox like a small child. Both men came to stand before her, one wielding a short sword, the other taking his ax in both hands. "Surely as a servant you understand the importance of obeying your master's commands?" Her nails traced Kurama's cheek though her focus remained on us, gaze bright and gleaming.

"Look lady, I don't know who you are or anything about this 'master' of yours." The Oni Prince stepped forward, shouldering his weapon with a fierce glare. "But if you don't hand him over right now, I'm gonna take your baws and use them as ornaments."  
She laughed, a light sound which could have charmed any man. "Use whichever means you see fit, though these two hold our master's words in higher esteem than I." The men's faces reflected as much and they settled into sure stances, ready to defend their prize.

Kuwabara appeared then, face ruddy from the run. "Why do you want him? If you have a master, the guy can't be hurting for money so bad he wants a ransom–"

"Ransom?" An amused chuckle sounded deep in her throat, vibrating her chest. "Oh no, we have much bigger plans in mind for this one."

"Stop speaking in riddles!" I glanced once more at Kurama, noting his even breath and pale complexion. He wasn't faking this, secretly scheming as he always did. No, he was truly asleep, lost to her spell. "What business do you have with him?"

She raised a brow, pausing her ministrations on his face. "You don't know what he is."

The statement came out as a declaration, utterly sure yet somehow brimming with wonder. What was this woman on about? "He is a Gandaran, a proud warrior of old blood."

Another chuckle and she shook her head. "You really _don't_ know what he is, do you?" Without waiting for a reply, she bent closer, taking a red lock in her hand. "All this time and you know nothing."

Kuwabara stilled, swallowing past the pounding of his heart. "What are you talking about?"

"There are no red-haired beings in your country other than him, no? There are none in Tourrin, either."

I bit back a curse. She knew exactly who we were, who _he_ was. "What of it?"

She hummed, drawing him closer still. "If you can't figure it out yourself, I see no reason to tell you. You're about to die, anyway."

All at once, she rose, lifting Kurama effortlessly. The dew seeped through our shoes as we gripped our weapons, night having fallen without my knowing it.

Then, retreating first one step, then another, she smiled. "Kill them."

A/N: Inktober prompt 17 – Ornament; _The Whipping Boy_, Hiei's POV

Baw – testicles


	18. Prompt 18 A Couple of Misfits

It'd been this way all his life.

At home he was the baby, the kind-hearted one, the one who cared for their broken family in a crappy neighborhood. At school he was the delinquent, the hard-headed punk no one believed would amount to anything. Sure, he had friends – guys in the same boat as him – but they actually had potential, young men who knew how to use their heads and their fists.

Then, he met _them_, and everything changed.

Even with them, though, he didn't quite fit in: one laughed at his sense of honor, the other, his passion; the third cautioned him against following his heart, saying such would get him killed. But that didn't bother him. Even when his ideals brought him to death's door twice, he refused to relent. He had his own idea of manhood, an unshakable masculinity none could deter him from.

After all, these things brought him to the woman he loved.

Still, a time came when he would've given anything to change who he was. After things finally returned to normal, when they'd saved the day for the last time, he lost them. He lost all of them because he was too weak, too pure, too _human_. That's what it really boiled down to, his perfect humanity. He wasn't like them, he couldn't change his nature any more than he could stop his beating heart and still live. Once again, he lost his place in this world:

As always, he was the misfit.

Still, despite everything, she chose to stay. She knew even less about his world than he did hers but that didn't matter. He watched as she worked to stay by his side, learning all she could, never showing an ounce of fear at fragile missteps or hilarious misunderstandings. All the cute things she did, the hiccups of learning to use modern appliances and how a toilet worked. The way she fearlessly talked to strangers while gripping his arm, ever aware of trailing eyes and scathing scowls. She wanted to learn everything, anything so they wouldn't send her back. Before long, he realized a truth only he'd seemed unaware of.

She was a misfit, too.

Rather than disgust, however, that fact endeared her to him more. He wanted to keep her safe, make her feel she belonged, create a place where she'd never have to cry again. Simple infatuation grew deeper, carrying with it affection, fascination and, more than all else, longing. She deserved the world – far more than he could give – but he wanted to try. His dreams changed because of her, his hopes for the future as well as his desires. He longed for her healing hands, her disposition which put all at-ease. The teachers laughed when he said he wanted to go to medical school, to teach his scarred hands to heal, but that didn't bother him. No, she believed in him, silently supporting his studying late into the night.

Though it would take time, he'd make a good life for her. She would have anything she wanted: a house in the country, a garden full of flowers and honey suckle, and children – he'd give her all the children she wanted.

This was the least he could do.

After all, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

A/N: Inktober prompt 18 – Misfit


	19. Prompt 19 Nothing But a Sling

I stared at him, perplexed, trying to understand.

Yusuke was not so subtle with his sentiments. "What were you thinking?"

His anger fell of deaf ears, pitched tones echoing against the gully's ancient walls. Hiei refused to look at either of us, staring instead at the swirling water underfoot, the river which made this place so long ago. Though the bleeding had ceased, Hiei's right arm lay still in my cousin's hands, torn and inflamed flesh flopping uselessly despite Yusuke's best efforts to keep it still.

The day began ordinarily enough. I noticed my companion's agitation when we broke camp though at the time thought nothing of it for Hiei had never been fond of this time of year, especially since winter came sooner to the mountains. He remained silent throughout Yusuke and Kuwabara's usual banter and even when we stopped for lunch, he held his peace while I gave the knight a short lesson in letters and the flower's song. Come to think of it, he didn't say a word the entire day–

Not until the bear came.

Easily triple the size of the beasts at home, she appeared unnaturally agitated. Perhaps we'd unwittingly wandered too near the place she intended to hibernate though that didn't fully explain her rage, nor the cunning in her eyes. Licking his lips, Yusuke prepared for a good fight, fingers itching for the thrill of the hunt though Hiei stepped forward, outstretching a forbidding hand. This surprised us all though he refused to listen to reason as he took first one step, then another, never breaking eye contact with the creature. Even when she charged he remained deaf to our cries, still as the unchanging oaks until she was right on him, simply baring his right arm for slobbering jaws.

He never attempted to go for his swords.

"Ye coud'a been kelled!" Yusuke's voice suddenly grew quiet, little more than a growl as he wrapped the wrangled limb with torn linens. An unmistakable accent trickled in as he slipped seamlessly into his native tongue, something my cousin did only when he was upset or very drunk. "Wit were ye tinkin', ya dobber?"  
Still, Hiei kept his silence, only the barest traces of pain crossing his face.

Soft breathing breached the silence and I glanced behind us, to the form nestled against the rough wall. Kuwabara lay lost to the throes of sleep, fingers coated still with Hiei's blood.

We were not slow in moving once the bear set upon our companion though he fell at almost the same moment she did, still as one dead beside her carcass. Kuwabara set to work immediately, taking in the mangled flesh, calling for different herbs from our bags even as he stripped his tunic for a tourniquet. The practiced words fell from his lips without trepidation, pleading with the sparse flora for help, to use his body as a conduit.

I moved stop him for healing was an inherent gift, bestowed by the heavens on a limited number of people and not something which could be taught. Born without the healing touch, I'd never thought to teach him the words he uttered now, words he doubtlessly spied for himself in the scrolls I'd brought along for his education. If he did not possess this gift, the land would drain him dry.

His zeal could cost him his life. "Kuwabara–"

Then, against all odds, sinew moved beneath his hands, blood receding back into the shattered limb. Nerves and arteries mended themselves in that light, torn tissue stitching back together with each soft word. Sweat beaded Kuwabara's brow though he refused to relent, pouring all he had into the act.

Until he had nothing more to give and he fainted, falling across his patient in a disordered heap.

Hiei regained consciousness just as the rain began, though by that time we were safe in the ravine's confines, a shelter suggested by my cousin since no caves were within sight. A disdainful glare at his arm was the only thanks we received.

And thus our current dilemma.

"Hiei, please." Red eyes found me in the growing gloom though what they saw, I couldn't say. Anger choked my voice, undercut by relief and, most of all, fear. Hiei had never done something like this – intentionally brought harm upon himself – and I needed to understand why. Icy dread gripped my gut as I realized once more that my companion could have died today, likely would have had we not stepped in.

None of this matched with the man I knew.

"Tell us why you did this."

An involuntary wince as Yusuke tugged a bandage tight and he dropped his gaze, staring at the strips of new pink skin. "To lose this arm."

Yusuke choked on his tongue, hands momentarily losing their grip. Hiei hissed as the limb struck his leg, glaring at the unnatural angle. I stared once more at the healed puncture wounds for they fell directly across the dreadful tattoo, fresh flesh slicing the dragon into ribbons. The beast's eyes remained though, blood-red and glaring from scarred knuckles.

"Broken." I murmured, glancing about for anything which could be used to brace the bones. A monstrous branch lay several feet away, hugging the stone lip jutting over the water below. Within moments I was beside the wood, stripping it of two lesser but mostly straight counterparts. Breaking off the unnecessary pieces, I took hold of Hiei's arm, pressing the sticks to either side while instructing Yusuke to wrap the cloth as tightly around them as possible.

My cousin obeyed and while he made no move to evade my grasp, Hiei refused to look at me. He noted Kuwabara's slumber but made no comment, content with glaring at the wall separating us from the surface.

"Why did you want to lose your arm?" I finally pressed, fingers clamped still on his unnaturally hot flesh. "That would impede upon your duties."

Though I could care less about such 'duties', Hiei had always held them in the highest regard, doing absolutely everything in his power to keep me safe from foes, imagined or otherwise. The thought that he would intentionally incapacitate himself shook me to the core, evident in the tightness of my voice, the slight trembling of my hands none but him would notice.

His eyes fell to those hands, brow drawn though not from pain this time. "Because I no longer need it."

An unkind sound from Yusuke. "Yer bum's oot the windae." He muttered, tugging harshly against the bandages, earning a glare from my companion. "That's like sayin' ye don't need yer boaby!"

Though my cousin threw more colorful barbs his way, Hiei refused to take them, choosing instead to stare at my hands. Soon enough, the dragon and its fierce gaze disappeared beneath the cloth strips, ends tucked smartly at the wrist.

One final look and Yusuke brandished a hunting knife, slicing through the bottom half of his plaid. Before either of us could comment, he'd knotted the end and slipped it over Hiei's head, lifting the wrapped limb gently into the makeshift sling.

"Yer a wee scunner, ye ken?" He huffed, tucking the knife into his belt before rising, staring up at the sky.

I rose with Hiei at my heels, staring at the Oni. "Where are you going?"

Yusuke smirked, temper finally fleeing his face. "That bear isn't going to get here by itself."

A snort and Hiei rolled his eyes. "It's dead, you fool."

"Yeah, but I'm not letting that meat go to waste! You have any idea how long we can eat off that thing?" Without waiting for a reply, Yusuke scaled the gully wall in record time and was gone, hair whipping at the air behind him.

A/N: Inktober prompt 19 – Sling; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV

Wit were ye tinkin', ya dobber? – what were you thinking, you idiot?

Yer bum's oot the windae – you're not making any sense

Boaby – penis

Yer a wee scunner, ye ken – you're a little nuisance, you know that


	20. Prompt 20 Tender Tread

He said I couldn't do this.

I smirked and surveyed the apartment, littered with evidence of our battle: the upended table, chairs in splinters scattered about the space; the mattress cleaved in half, porcelain shards and shattered pottery on the floor. Dents in the walls where he'd rammed himself into them, hoping to suppress me, the fool. A clump of scarlet hair clung still to a dresser drawer left awry, hair belonging to a familiar head–

A head which was no longer present.

The clouds momentarily blotted out the moon beyond the window, casting the room in darkness. Reaching out with a hand – _my_ hand – I pushed the fragile pane upward, allowing the cool night air to fill this place. Even now I could feel him tugging the edges of my consciousness, fighting to stay awake when his soul longed for nothing but sleep. Terror coated his thoughts, overriding even his shock and anger. Such a thing should not be possible, he protested, trying and failing to grasp his situation with a fragile human mind.

The medicine, the medicine; always, the medicine. He'd allowed her to think him weak for it, all in some foolish attempt to keep her safe – no, to keep _himself_ safe. The boy thought the drug would be my undoing, never once considering the relationship between substances and demons could differ from its role in human lives. If taken long enough, humans became resistant to certain drugs and, in some cases, developed an immunity. I'd spent centuries cultivating plants inside my own body, procuring specialized poisons and antidotes from each one. For all his careful planning, he made one fatal mistake:

He'd allowed me to feed upon the potion for too long.

Crunching underfoot and I glanced down, hair spilling over both shoulders. A cellphone – the device he'd used in a vain attempt to keep her away. He hadn't expected me to fight so fiercely, to prove my dominance when he mentioned increasing the dosage again. Shuichi called her as I sucked his soul from its place piece by piece, warning her, begging her to stay away.

I made sure the last thing she heard from him was a scream.

It gave me no pleasure to hurt the boy for he'd been good to me, understanding, caring, even if he couldn't bring himself to not hate me. If we had never met her, things might have been different: I could have waited until Shiori passed before taking him, reclaiming the existence rightfully my own. Shuichi Minamino was never meant to live past his childhood yet, every time Shiori called me by that name, I grew to love her more and more. She was as much my mother as his.

Azumi changed all of that.

Again, I recalled the first time I saw her in that black dress, looking at me as if no one else were in the room. Her quick wit and hard-won smile, the way her body moved when she danced and fought; her devotion to those she claimed as her own – her treasures – rivaling even my own–

She was perfect in every way.

From the open window, I heard her call a name, _his_ name, rushing into the building. He struggled against me but to no avail, for even then his soul continued to slip into darkness. She made no move to conceal herself as she ran up the flights of stairs but I savored the sound, memorizing the tender tread only her feet could make. Nothing would postpone this meeting further. The detective was nowhere near, neither were the fire boy or the human.

Out of breath, she called his name again, trying the locked door. He begged and pleaded, unable to keep his eyes open in all the black. Any moment, she would kick the door open and see me here. Another minute and she would know the truth.

He said I couldn't do this.

I said she was mine.

A/N: Inktober prompt 20 – tread; _Hey You_, Yoko's POV


	21. Prompt 21 Priceless Treasure

"No, not like that!"

I gasped, stopping just in time to keep from crushing her bare toes. My heel caught the corner of the overeager rug and I stumbled, shin colliding against the coffee table without pretense. Of course, such an incident could have been avoided, though not without preternatural grace:

Not without using _his_ power.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I contended with the brittle pain, a nuisance more than anything else. She appeared at my side in an instant, kneeling atop the plush material, brushing aside calloused hands effortlessly.

"Really, that is unnec–"

She leveled me with a look, forcing the words back down my throat with those almond eyes. Raven tresses tickling her cheek, she rolled up the trouser leg with care, heedless of the music still trickling from the record player. Blue already graced the point of impact, deepening to purple in the center before fading to varying shades of red at the edges.

A soft flaring of the nostrils cued her disappointment, eyes hardening to two small stones. "We need to ice this."

He chided my weak human nature, at being incapacitated by such a thing. "This is nothing; I can still go on."

Her glare rose then, stilling my breath. "Who's the teacher, here?"

'_Who, indeed?_'

Lips pressed in an uncompromising line, she traced around the injury before pressing the center with swift abandon, fingers knowing and sure. Though I did my best to remain unmoving under her gaze some pain must have registered for she sighed, hand moving to grip my tricep. "Come on, on the couch."

I knew resistance would prove futile so I obeyed, allowing her to help me up and slip onto a well-worn cushion. Her withdrawal into the kitchen sapped my strength and I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, pleading with him to behave himself. A caustic laugh as the music played on, he replaying her flawless grace again and again. The slight bend of her knees, the effortless lines of her arms, how her abdomen bent to my will seamlessly, easily–

A sharp poke to the shin halted such thoughts.

She emerged with hands full, bearing both a dry towel and a clacking plastic bag. Taking my leg once more, she lifted until my foot rested on the low table with her toweled hand, spreading the milky bag across the bruise. The sudden cold won a short breath but nothing more and she was already at work again, wrapping the cloth around my leg, fingertips brushing my knee, my thigh.

If she noted my flush cheeks, she made no mention of it. "What's so difficult about this for you?" Azumi rose on her knees, gaze open, curious. "You're not clumsy – I've seen you move enough to know that – so what's the problem?"

She watched me move? I withdrew, chin tipping downward, all too conscious of two sets of eyes upon me. "Forgive me, I've never done something like this before."

"No excuses. If you can walk, you can dance."

Did she realize how she walked, each step poetry in motion, perfectly poised even on her worst days? Shaking the image away, I smiled for her. "I believe you, though I have nothing to liken this experience to."

"Fair enough." She wrinkled her nose, an adorable habit accompanying deep thought. "Are you sure you've never done martial arts, even when you were a kid?"

"Quite." The lie came immediately, easily, tasting of honey and free of intonation. She had no need to know such things – she was better of _not_ knowing. "Why, did martial arts spurn your interest in dance?"

"No, the opposite."

I waited for her to continue but she did not, staring off into space, nose still wrinkled just so.

"Tell me, what is the correlation between fighting and dancing?" She glanced my way as I leaned forward, hair curling atop the dampening towel. "Though I may not be experienced in either, I have seen you engaged in both a number of times. Perhaps an explanation will help me grasp what you are trying to teach me."

A snort and she leaned back, spine impeccably straight as she met my gaze. I stared back without hesitation, praying for a glimpse into her thoughts, the hidden world behind her eyes:

Anything to be closer to her.

The music stopped, recording arm sliding back into place with a defined 'click'. Azumi sighed, rising to cross the room. Returning the vinyl carefully to its place, she chose another from the shelf with care, slipping the disc from a sleeve. However, she hesitated in lifting the arm, turning instead to me.

"Dancing mirrors martial arts in almost every way." She allowed, thumb tracing the black top of the needle cover. "Both involve two people and the joining of bodies, and both are impossible without proper timing, skill, and grace." Here, the arm moved gently in her hand, enticing the first notes of _Contradanza_. "If you don't know your partner, the dance will fall apart. If you don't know your opponent, you'll likely lose the fight."

My brows rose at this, enticed by her quiet voice overlaid by the violin. "'Know your opponent'?"

"Predict what they'll do, watch their movements until you notice a pattern." One leg rose, then the other, pointed toes tracing opaque patterns on the rug. "When dancing, you have to do the same thing. The steps of each style are established but everyone does them differently, just like a teacher and student's fighting techniques can differ." She dipped her head, torso rolling with the song amidst outstretched arms. "If your partner falters, you have to pick up the slack." Snapping her shoulders back, her hair flared around her like a wild thing, legs bent to almost a crouch. "If you can't do even that, the party's over – you both lose."

She continued moving with her phantom, a perfect storm of motion I could spend hours studying. However, once the song ended, she rose, dabbing perspiration with the bottom of her shirt. "That's the only difference, really: in a fight, there's only one victor; in a dance, there's two."

I swallowed, praying she wouldn't notice my shortened breath, the clamminess of my hands. "Why do you refuse to publicly instruct dance? You're a brilliant teacher."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Though her tone remained harsh, I saw the twinkle in her eye, her lips fighting a smile. "This is mine and mine alone; I'm only showing you because you asked me to."

That much was true. Never had I heard Azumi talk of any students aside from the self-defense course at the gym, and I discovered her skill for dancing quite by accident. Though her reasons for agreeing to teach me were entirely her own, I couldn't get away from one simple fact:

Despite barely knowing each other, she'd decided to share her treasure with me.

Pushing the minute pain away, I stood, carefully wrapping the bag inside the towel. "Let's continue, shall we?"

She raised a brow. "You sure? That's quite the bruise."

I rolled down my trouser leg, chuckling at the fresh wrinkles. "You forget that I bruise easily. This is nothing."

A pause and then she laughed, grinning before turning back the recording arm. "I won't take it easy on you."

Her hands in mine sent shivers down my spine, lids drooping as the song started once more. "I look forward to it."

A/N: Inktober prompt 21 – Treasure; _Hey You_, Kurama's POV


	22. Prompt 22 Ghost of Days Past

He was a ghost, an entity of days long past.

Karasu moved gracefully behind his mistress, heedless of the cold or the snow crunching underfoot. Feathered tufts creaking along their spines in the wind, he gave no heed to the ice beating his face, the flakes clinging to his hair like frightened children. Moisture made his clothing even more skin-tight, flecked nipples visible through a fur-trimmed tunic.

He was a phantom; bringer of death, silent as the night.

Collar branded against milky skin, he looked back once more, kama dangling from his wrists by sure chains. Yukina walked near Kuwabara still, stealing the occasional glance at Hiei though if my companion noticed her attentions, he did not show it.

How the unlikely pair knew when and where we would enter Hyouga was beyond me, nor how they knew already our quest to find the Princess was successful. I noted her reluctance to draw near her countrymen, Rui's utter lack of warmth towards the reclaimed heir; I saw every hint of emotion drain from her face, her sudden unwillingness to comply with Kuwabara's attempts at conversation.

And still the Tengu watched.

Yusuke noticed Karasu's attentions as well for he kept his gaze ground-ward, never once losing sight of his hands. Steam rose from the slits in the metal half-mask, frosted breath even and sure, unassuming as those cold, dead eyes. Hiei never strayed from my side, sure he remained between the two of us, fingers ever near the pommels of his blades. Karasu paid us no mind though that did not stop Hiei from tracking his movements, digesting each sharp gust and tipping of wings.

My thoughts drifted to the explanation my cousin had given on the race months before, proud warriors graced with a bird's keen senses and strength far above what any human could possess. Skilled with both the staff and the bow, the Tengu fought best from a distance though when the occasion called for it, had no issue engaging in close quarter combat. They were the Oni's superiors in almost every way, second only to the dragons in strength, the pride of Tourrin and the kingdom's crowning glory.

Why had such a people turned their backs on their companions?

And how did one of their brood end up a noblewoman's whore?

"Thank you for all you've done." Rui called, glancing over her shoulder to smile at me, though the motion provided little warmth. "The Princess would surely have been lost without you."

Knowing custom demanded a response, I dipped my head in a short bow, squinting against a fresh bluster. "I'm simply glad we arrived in time."

Karasu looked at me, then, murky pools vacant and unassuming. Icicle dread came even as a thin veil spread across my eyes, hundreds of tiny spiders burrowing into my brain. I stiffened before stopping altogether, ready for the plunge I knew was coming, bracing for the inevitable.

Until Hiei's growl filled my ear.

And Yukina took Karasu's hand.

Only when he lowered his head did I realize my fingers clutched at my nape, nails brushing several seeds bristling with life. Hiei's leg nearly brushed my own from his appointed stance, arms crossed to grip both weapons. Yusuke gripped his club as well though Kuwabara stared after the maiden, unsure of whether to snatch her from the Tengu's clutches.

Karasu looked at their joined hands with nothing short of fascination, dropping to one knee in the snow to look her in the eye. Yukina gazed upon him without fear – his sight appeared to have no effect upon her – and whispered something I couldn't quite hear, the garbled words of their native tongue.

He made no move against her. Rather, he brought her hand to his face, pressing it against the mask. If the steel bothered Yukina, she did not show it. Rather, she touched his hair with her fingertips, heedless of the scythes dangling inches from her flesh. She said something more and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. Kuwabara straightened and Yusuke breathed a sigh, though Hiei refused to move. Rather, his glare appeared to strengthen in intensity, another rumble rising at the display.

"Karasu." The Tengu froze at his name on Rui's tongue, abnormally still between the ice maidens. "That is no way to treat our guests. Apologize."

He dropped Yukina's hand and fell face-first into the snow, hands outstretched so the blue veins were visible to all. The hair at his neck parted, revealing lily-white skin underscored by sure muscle. The Princess started, stepping back while Kuwabara rushed to her side, not quite daring to touch her but a present force all the same. Yusuke's face twisted to something similar to disgust while Hiei remained unmoved, face smooth as as carved stone, ready to move at the slightest threat.

"Forgive him, sometimes Karasu simply cannot help himself." Rui shook her head, kneeling to pull back the tresses from one side of his face. "Though if you demand compensation, I won't stop you."

I stared down at him, this descendant of warriors broken for a woman's pleasure. One glance proved her words true – I could do anything I wished and Karasu would make no move to defend himself. Such a thing may have filled another with gladness but it only curled my stomach. His eye had opened just enough to stare at my feet, doubtless ready for a blow he felt assured would come.

Skirting them both, I began again in the direction which we'd ceased pursuing, pausing only when no one followed. "None is needed, Lady Rui; slaves are allowed to have minds of their own, the same as servants and all other beings."

Hiei appeared at my side and we resumed our journey, knowing the others would follow. A shuffling of snow heralded Karasu's rising though I did not look back, had no interest in seeing what expression lay upon that face.

He was a ghost, an apparition clinging desperately to mortality.

A phantom who had nowhere else to go.

A/N: Inktober prompt 22 – ghost; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV


	23. Prompt 23 From Antiquity

"Guys . . .!"

Kuwabara's breathless exclamation sounded as we rounded the final crag of the Draen mountains, the knight giving up his lead to stare open-mouthed at what lay below. I came to his side with a smile, Hiei flanking my left, Yusuke his right. The weight of the packs no longer mattered, foodstuffs we couldn't hope to find while traversing the unforgiving wilds of Ysbryd. The Oni Prince leaned against his club with a satisfied huff while my companion crossed both arms over his chest, following Kuwabara's wonder-struck stare.

Nestled between the curving range and its twin lay a sprawling city, easily twice the size of Gandara's capital. However, no sound rose on the wind to reach our ears; no mortals emerged from the collapsed walls and moss-eaten spires. Rather, flaunting flora blanketed the tops of buildings great and small, vines weaving a canopy across one collapsed dome after another. Trees erupted from broken wells and cracked streets, trunks bigger than four men standing abreast and each bearing fruit. The sun crested the peaks at our backs and lit the forgotten city, rays falling upon sparking bricks of azurite, anatase, and ramsbeckite. Each casts its shade upon the other, melding with the natural elements to give the impression of being underwater.

I'd only heard of such a place in books.

"The Kappa Kingdom."

Yusuke's voice shattered the silence and I started, glancing at my cousin. He leaned against his club with both hands, an unexpected softness lighting his features though a defined hardness settled in his eyes, neither of which I expected. Hiei remained the neutral bystander though he granted Yusuke a look of his own, jaw relaxing ever so slightly.

Kuwabara turned, though it took him a moment to regain his voice. "The _what_ kingdom?"

"The Kappa Kingdom, ancient home to the Kappa race, also known as river children." I frowned at a tree which had grown through a house of learning, the courtyards overgrown with brambles and thorns. "They are beings who cannot live far from water."

This fact was evidenced by the countless ruined fountains, the canals which ran still through the city, supplying water from mountain streams before flowing to the sea beyond. "They are also the true rulers of this land, fierce fighters and gifted with knowledge – much of what the humans have gained here is the result of their teachings."

"Okay, so where are they?" Kuwabara's voice carried as we began our descent, Hiei in the front, Yusuke in the rear. "I mean, you're talkin' like they're still alive." He paused, concern knitting his brow. "They _are_ still alive, right?"

"Yes." I breathed, carefully treading down the well-worn stairs carved into the mountain side.

"Then where are they?" He demanded again, sheathed blade beating his thigh. "Why would they leave a place like this?"

"Because the Dragons chased them away."

His mouth clamped shut as I gazed once more at the ruined city, taking in the beauty and unrivaled craftsmanship. Even from this distance, I could pick out the gashes in the paved squares which could only come from claws, the charred edges of blue and green stone peeking through the leaves. "The Dragons left Tourrin and invaded both Ysbryd and Gandara at the same time, though Gandara was prepared for their coming because of our ties with the Oni. At that time, the Kappa Kingdom was much like Alaric is today: isolated, self-sufficient for centuries on end. They were not ready for the Dragons, knew nothing of the war until Ysbryd's borders were invaded. The enemy's generals wasted no time in taking the capital, attacking with the full might of their army – the Kappa never stood a chance."

Kuwabara swallowed, eyes impeccably wide. Though they maintained their silence, I knew the others listened as well for their steps were distracted, breath quickened just so. "What happened then?"

"The Dragons drove them out and they fled as one, running into the sea. Kappa can live as easily in water as they can on land though as you can imagine, the ocean is very different from fresh rivers. Many could not adjust to the saltiness of the waves and died while others stuck to the estuaries, praying to go unnoticed by this new threat. Many of these perished as well yet some remained in a city beneath the sea, the strongest of their kind and willing to endure whatever they must to survive. They remain there unto this day; however, you can imagine their view on the world is much changed."

He nodded listlessly, attention roving once more to the city below. For a moment, I believed reason left him completely for he simply stared at the fragmented gemstones, the choked streets, the land's meticulous might in wiping the remembrance of the tragedy from the earth. "I never realized how bad that war was."

Hiei snorted then, throwing back a contemptuous glare. "Surely even you've heard the stories."

"Of course I have!" He spat back, cheeks reddening. "It's just– part of me thought they were just that, stories." Slowly, he looked back down, fists balling at his sides. "I never knew how much of them were real, all the bad things Dragons did." Again, he paused, jaw tightening to the point I feared his teeth would break. "I hope they got what they deserved."

My companion watched him a moment longer before turning away, though he offered no further comment. Yes, the lessons of the past were often hard to swallow and even more difficult to confront but such a thing was necessary for growth.

Otherwise, we were doomed to repeat the same mistakes as our ancestors.

A/N: Inktober prompt 23 – ancient; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV


	24. Prompt 24 Height-Challenged

"What d'ya mean, you won't do it?"

"Exactly what I said. Did all the lightning roast what little brain you have?"

"Let's try to remain civil, please." I sighed, massaging the bridge of my nose in lieu of a brewing headache.

We stood at the border between Gandara and Ysbryd, a natural divide composed of taunting slopes and jagged crags. The only region of my land containing mounds of stone, the western portion of Gandara remained largely uninhabited due to the tentative treaty between the kingdoms, though a handful of bustling merchant cities more than made up for the lack of villages.

Kuwabara watched our companions, staring at Yusuke with nothing short of wonder. As a precaution, my cousin called upon the sky's aide before we left safe soil: a privilege which was his birthright as crown Prince, though still no easy feat to undertake alone. We watched as the Oni danced about with clacking shells tied to his wrists and ankles, beating his drum while singing the words he'd heard his entire life. The process took far longer for him than for the Hornless – a full ten minutes – though gradually the sky grew dark, ferocious clouds blotting out the sun before slicing their great bellies open.

Soaked through immediately, none of us moved to seek shelter – such was the power of the spectacle. Yusuke's voice rose and fell with rumbles of thunder and, before I knew it, lightning flashed, striking him down instantly.

Then he rose and repeated the process.

Yusuke danced even after blood ran from his nostrils, trickled from both ears to mingle with his braids, crested his lips from a pierced tongue. He danced until lightning laid him down a third time and there he remained, laughing despite his labored breaths. The clouds dissipated at his word and returned from whence they came, though it was some time before he could rise.

Thus why we stood arguing now in drenched clothes.

Hiei's mood was not bettered by his wet garments, boots making a squelching sound as he turned his back to us. Arms crossed, he did his best to ignore my cousin's glare, the irritation curling his lips:

Yusuke wasn't known for his fair temper.

"Give me one good reason you won't climb that mountain!"

A scathing look over his shoulder, red eyes narrowed to slits. "I owe you nothing."

Kuwabara spoke up then, edging closer to the hostile men. "What're you planning to do, then?"

"What else? I'll go around the range and meet you on the other side."

All traces of anger left my cousin and he blinked. "You can't be serious?"

Hiei's stance never faltered, though his glare lessened by degrees and he tucked his chin, holding my cousin's gaze.

"Wh . . . why would you wanna do something that _stupid_?" Yusuke scratched his head, braids thick ropes falling across his hand and arm. "Gotta say, I expected more from you, hot pants."

"Will you stop calling me that?" He snarled, teeth flashing as he rounded upon the Oni."And my reason is none of your concern."

Yusuke tipped his head back, thinking. "You're right; if you want to act like an idiot, that's your business." He shrugged at Hiei's growl, hands rising to cushion his head. "What I want to know is what's buggin' you so bad you'd abandon your post. You're supposed to be protecting Kurama, right?"

All emotion fled at once from Hiei's face and he straightened, rising to his full height. "The Prince would be safe in your care."

My cousin shrugged, head lolling to the side. "I dunno, I've only been to Ysbryd once. No telling what could be waiting once we cross the border." I noted the lilt in his voice and undoubtedly Hiei did too for his brow furrowed, fingers inching toward his blades. "Gotta look out for number one, you know? The fate of Tourrin rests on my shoulders."

The air suddenly turned stifling and I stepped between them, hands raised in supplication. "Gentlemen, please–"

"What? I can't help your man's lying down on the job, fox boy." Another growl from Hiei went ignored and Yusuke jutted his chin out, eyeing Kuwabara. "Really, he's the only one I'm responsible for, here."

"Hey, quit treating me like a kid!"

Pressure on my palm as Hiei stepped forward, chest settling fully against my hand. "If anything happens to Kurama, I'll kill you."

Another shrug. "Not much you can do if you're not here, short stuff. Though maybe if you tell me why you're so determined not to climb a mountain, I'll consider covering for your scrawny butt."

Vibrations beneath my fingers and I glared over one shoulder. "Yusuke, that's enough!"

"Sorry," He quipped, not sounding apologetic in the least. "Didn't realize he was such a _fazart_–"

"I'm not afraid!" Though even as he spoke, I knew that wasn't true. Hiei's breath stuttered in his chest, perspiration lining his face even as a slight tremor lit his hands.

"Then what is it?" I pried, thankful Yusuke kept his mouth shut. Hiei's lungs regulated themselves at the sound of my voice but darkness danced still in his eyes; I could not make him look at me. "Help us understand why you are so against this."

He withdrew then, pulling away from us with eyes trained on the ground. For a moment, I feared he would not answer but go still in his stubborn way.

At last, however, his gaze lit on a well-meaning dandelion bloom nudging at his toes, mouth pressed into a grimace. "They make me dizzy."

Yusuke raised a brow, hands falling to his hips. "A bunch of rocks makes you dizzy?"

"No, heights do, you fool!"

This gave all of us pause. To date, Hiei had never admitted any form of weakness, never let on about many of the things I'd come to realize about him. I knew from our time together that he despised cold weather, spicy food, as well as those imbibed to wine. He slept little during the night and, while prizing privacy above else, he detested being left alone for too long, preferring for the two of us to be left to our own devices. I knew of his intolerance to the demands of women and his inability to swim:

Though I'd never witnessed any hint of what he described now.

Kuwabara apparently shared my astonishment. "B-but you've been around tall stuff your whole life! You live in a _castle_!" When Hiei remained silent, he continued. "I mean, you've slept in trees for the past three nights–"

"Schloss Wald is not nearly as tall as you make out, neither is a common tree." My companion frowned, disgust twisting his face. "Extreme heights – the type which can only be experienced atop mountains – are unsettling. I can't catch my breath . . . lose hold of my senses."

I waited for him to continue but he held his tongue, hands pressed to either thigh. Frowning, I traced back over his words, amazed at the fact that he had been to the mountains when I had not.

Yusuke undoubtedly reached the same conclusion. "How many times have you climbed a mountain?"

Hiei ground his jaw, fingers curling into fists. "Once."

My cousin smiled then, strutting forward with an easy gait. "Well, that was a long time ago, right? People change." He clapped the shorter man on the shoulder, grin spreading across his lips. "I won't hold your being a pussy against you if you try it this one time. If you can't do it, you can't do it – I'll carry you down the mountain if I have to. Deal?"

For a moment, I believed Hiei would refuse, insist on continuing his vain venture. However, he sneered, turning on his heel and advancing toward the gray spires ahead of us.

A/N: Inktober prompt 24 – dizzy; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV

fazart – coward


	25. Prompt 25 A Tasty Morsel

"Try to have fun this time, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry! The month'll be over before you know it!"

Botan blustered about with her usual cheer, an act which became harder each visit home. Shizuru appeared in better spirits than when they normally parted, checking the azure-haired woman's hotel and room number for the fourth time. This in itself was not unusual for her childhood friend often called when Botan was away on business, offering support and promises of protection in her casual manner. Of course she knew the younger Kuwabara remained embroiled in the city's underworld, that he was chummy with more than one high-ranking member in various syndicates:

She did not need the reminder every time they talked.

The train bound for Mushiyori rolled in and she boarded without a backward glance, waving weakly to her friend until she fell out of sight. Botan sighed, sinking further into her seat while pulling a slim book from her bag. She wasn't much of a reader but needed something to pass the time–

Anything to keep from thinking.

Until recently, she'd been content with her life. After graduating with a Master's degree in healthcare administration, the perfect job fell into her lap – assistant of public affairs for a hospice company. Botan loved her work: she never grew tired of coming alongside the elderly and their families, seeing to their needs, forming bonds that could last even after the patients ultimately passed. The job could be difficult and emotionally draining though the pros far outweighed the cons.

Or, at least they did before last year.

She'd known better than to participate in romantic ventures, to keep professional relationships just that – professional. However, she did not anticipate on falling for her supervisor. She did not foresee Koenma being quite so charming, understanding, even . . . warm. They kept the fledgling relationship a secret, both leaving at different times to have lunch together a few stations away or sneaking off to catch a movie. A harmless romance, one which had nothing to do with intimacy–

Something his father didn't quite understand.

Of course, Mr. Enma found out; Koenma may be the company's chairman but his father was the president, owner and founder of Free Spirits. It didn't matter that their tentative courtship remained innocent, that the son never touched her inappropriately or even kissed her. No, _appearances_ were the most important thing.

If she were a wealthy girl, none of that would have mattered.

Thus, the reason for her transfer last year, banished to a city where she knew nothing and no one.

Despite everything, Botan did her best to remain positive. She still had her work, she still got to interact with hurting families, despite the grizzly "promotion". The only thing she really lost in the venture was her social life:

Though as a single 24 year old virgin, what social life did she really have?

Retrieving her key from the front desk hours later, she gave a weary wave on the way to the elevator, not thinking much of the receptionist's sly smile. The girl had always been kind enough, always willing to chat when Botan needed someone dissociated with her life to talk to.

In fact, she didn't think much of anything until she unlocked door 433.

A man stood facing the windowed wall of the suite, stance lax, hands buried in either pocket. Corded arms sheltered by flimsy fishnet, a black tank graciously hid his abdomen from view though there was no denying the muscle beneath that cloth, thick strands somehow magnified by the outer garment. Leather pants hugged his skin from waist to ankle, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination from the shape of his buttocks to the size of his principle member. Black bracers adorned with hoops at the wrist, thick boots ready to stomp a hole in the world; a dark choker embedded with studs, hair gelled so it appeared ready to fly from his head.

Something between a gasp and a squeak flew from her lips as he turned.

Red eyes stared back unblinkingly, heavy-lidded yet cognizant. Mouth set in a neutral line, he simply watched her, honeyed skin appearing to glisten beneath the light of a nearby lamp. A ring easily the width of her pinkie jutted from his lower lip, inlaid with a crimson strip which matched his eyes perfectly. Strong cheekbones and a pointed chin drew her attention from that peach mouth, up to the various piercings lining both ears. His hands emerged from their hiding place, palms encased in slick half-gloves, twisting rings adorning every other finger.

Backing first one step, then another, Botan sucked in a breath, prepared to scream.

"I would advise against that."

She spun at the velvety voice, momentarily losing sight of the stranger. If the first man were a night sky, the second would be the moon, both by his pallor and attire. Green eyes gleaming, this one smiled for her, a motion which did not seem entirely sincere. While the tailored white suit looked good on him, the flaring ponytail negated any calming effect the color could imbibe, bringing to mind a rabbit slaughtered in the snow. Brown loafers silent against the carpet, he stood at least a head over them both, abandoning his station at the wall to give a shallow bow.

"Ms. Botan, I presume?"

Mutely, she nodded, tongue lodged somewhere in the back of her throat.

"Please pardon the intrusion. I hope you understand why we choose to do business this way: going directly to clients cuts down on unnecessary scrutiny from strangers, as well as protects your privacy."

Business? Clients? Unnecessary scrutiny? "I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong room." The words came out contorted, fumbled, panic-laced.

The red-headed man didn't seem to mind in the least. "You are Botan Seishin, are you not?"

Mutely, she nodded, though her eyes grew wider still, heart pounding in her ears.

"Good, that resolves any issues, then." He motioned behind her to his companion, who'd yet to say a word. "This is Hiei; you may call me Kurama. Thank you again for choosing our services–"

"W-wait a minute!" She threw up her hands, dropping her bag, the contents of which spilled across the floor. "I, I never–"

"Don't worry, dear, you friend arranged it all for you."

Botan paused, confusion lighting her eyes. "Friend?"

"Yes, she was very – how to say – _specific_ about your needs. An untouched maiden, alone in a city such as this." He bowed his head, voice dropping as if such an atrocity were unthinkable. "You have my condolences."

Before she could formulate a response aside from a few nonsense syllables, Kurama moved on, extending a hand toward the other man. "Hiei was chosen with your situation in mind. Please, use him as you see fit. Your friend paid for an entire night so take as much time as you need." Spots speckled her vision as she opened and closed her mouth in a desperate bid to speak. "Some aesthetic elements have been placed in the bedroom for your convenience so please, do as you'd like. If you require anything further, say the word and I will–"

"H-hold on a minute!" She swallowed, hating the frantic lilt etched into her voice. "I don't even know who you _are_! What friend? What on earth are you here for?"

Kurama paused, brow raised, a mask of unencumbered patience gracing his face. "You know our names, and I've already told you why we're here. As far as who requested our services–" Here he smiled, as if sharing a secret only they could know. "That falls under client confidentiality, I'm afraid, as does your unique . . . position."

She paled as some of his words took another spin through her mind, settling in her stomach like lead. An untouched maiden, chosen with your situation in mind; an entire night, paid, bedroom. Bedroom–

Bedroom?

"I . . . think there's been a misunderstanding."

"No, the only one who does not understand is you." Kurama sighed, glancing over his shoulder at his companion. "Take care of her – we've been compensated handsomely for this evening."

Only when Hiei nodded did realization dawn. Kurama intended to go, to leave them alone for the whole night.

She wasn't sure whether to be grateful or horrified. "Wait! Don't go!"

He stopped his retreat, fiery hair spilling across one shoulder. "You would like an audience? Sorry, that costs extra." At her shudder he laughed, waving away her concern. "Look at this as a reward for the work you've done for your company, a tasty morsel picked just for you."

With that, he retreated through the door, leaving her alone with the black-clad would-be lover.

Silence descended and Botan swallowed hard, turning slowly, as if she were the heroine of a horror movie. He shifted under her gaze and his skin glistened – was that glitter? – twin chains tinkling against his thigh. For a moment, she allowed herself to truly see him: to notice the almost delicate bone structure, the white scars visible through the fishnet, the way his eyes glittered like gemstones in the semi-dark. She noted their height difference, how she rose half a head higher than he, as well as his quiet yet powerful presence. Something dreadful rested in that not-quite-blank stare, watching while she struggled to remain calm–

An act shattered when he opened his mouth. "How do you want to do this?"

Her breath caught at his voice, soft and sharp, a razor wind which could cut anything it chose into ribbons. "W-what do you mean?"

The tip of his tongue touched the lip ring, spinning the red circle while raising a brow, thumb thrust into one pocket. "What do you want me to do? Your friend said this was your first time – virgins have all kinds of fantasies." His other hand touched his neck before running slowly down his chest and stomach, fingers teasing muscle effortlessly, easily, fingertips lingering a second too long at his nipple. "I won't hurt you; we have all night–"

"Hold on a minute!" She held up both hands and his mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Sex–" Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears, tiny; afraid. "You're talking about sex."

He allowed both hands to fall to his sides, all flirtation slipping from his features. "I said I won't hurt you, woman – you can do anything you want to me."

Botan shook her head, backing slowly toward the adjoining room. "Can . . . can you give me a moment?"

At his nod she fled to the bedroom, locking the door behind her. Taking her head in her hands, Botan fought the urge to scream, tugging at her hair instead. Okay, there was a stranger – a sexy stranger – in the living room. Nothing to freak out about, no need to panic–

Turning, she was ready to fall across the bed but stopped short. Several articles lay spread across the blanket, arranged by size and use: a small whip, soft rope, two different ball gags; handcuffs, not the raunchy fuzzy ones but a pair of stainless steel rings, complete with a set of keys; edible panties, a can of whipped cream; several different types of lubricants and condoms, so many condoms–

_Some aesthetic elements have been placed in the bedroom for your convenience._

This time she really did scream.

It took quite a while for her to gather herself, to reconcile the objects as harmless – to forget how he looked in all that black. Finally, she mustered up all her courage and opened the door, and slip into the living room.

Hiei sat in the windowsill, knee upraised, black cloth riding his spine to reveal a strip of tanned skin at the waist. As before, he stared at the rain pounding the city below though he turned away for her, no set emotion fixing on his face. "Satisfied?"

Sucking her lip between her teeth, Botan glanced back, tugging at the canary collar of her blouse. "There's . . . a lot in there."

He shrugged, head lolling to the side. "If there's anything else you want, better say so now. Even the specialty shops close soon." At her silence he straightened, allowing his leg to fall while holding her gaze. "What is it?"

"You," She released her lip, licking the injured flesh. "You want me to use all of that on you?"

Another shrug, though not as detached as the first. "I can use them on you but you might not like it."

The words barely registered for she was staring at his body once again, the scars dotting his arms, shoulders and neck. "You expect me to hurt you?"

That gave him pause, just for a moment. "Some women enjoy such things. If the thought doesn't excite you, don't worry about it – the fox tries to prepare for everything."

"The fox–?"

"Kurama." He corrected, rolling to his feet with a cat's grace. "Enough talking; someone paid for you to have a good time tonight and I not cheap." Before she knew he was standing before her, near enough to touch, but he didn't, not yet. "I'm only going to ask one more time – how do you want to do this?"

Nothing on his face of bearing hinted at arousal but she knew he meant business, felt it in the coldness underscoring his tone. "Wait!"

Botan grabbed his hands as they rose, surprised at the callouses beneath her fingers. "Were there any other stipulations?"

Hiei blinked, withdrawing slightly though she kept her grip. "What?"

"Other than making sure I have a good time, did your employer say anything before paying you? Did this person specifically say we _have_ to have sex?"

Astonishment slowly gave way to confusion and he pulled at his hands, the sensation wrinkling his nose. "No, they only said to be kind to you."

She breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging as she loosened her grip. Hiei snatched his hands away immediately, shoving both into his back pockets. "So the money isn't for your body?"

"The payment is for my time." For the first time, the softness disappeared from his voice and he tipped his chin back, gaze hardening to something like a glare. "What you chose to do with it is up to you."

Botan giggled suddenly and he furrowed his brow, staring as if she'd lost her mind. "What are you laughing at, woman?"

"This, silly!" She gestured between the two of them before devolving into another fit, a grin splitting her cheeks. "Whew! You boys gave me quite a scare!"

He retreated a step, lips pressed together.

"Don't you see? We don't have to do this – we can just spend the evening together!"

At that he snorted, glancing toward the bedroom. "And what do you suggest we do all night, hold hands?"

"Even better! We can talk."

Confusion sequestered in his eyes once more and he frowned, the motion nearly a scowl. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, come on! You owe me your time, right?" Botan winked, grabbing his wrist before pulling him beside her on the couch. "Like you said, we have all night – I want you to tell me all about yourself."

And thus began the strangest encounter with a john Hiei ever had.


	26. Prompt 26 Certain Dark Things

"She won't listen to this."

'_She will, if it comes from you_.'

I sighed, tugging at the suddenly tight collar of the dress shirt. After several days of arguing, talk of protection and fighting for control, we'd finally reached a compromise. Yoko resigned to remain a bystander for now, content with observing Azumi from afar, certain I would make a blunder of things and he would have his chance then.

In return, however, he demanded a voice in the only way she could hear it.

Another sigh and I glanced at the current reader – a college student passionately reciting a selection from _Madame Bovary_. He bit at my temples, nails trailing the base of my skull amidst applause at Black Lotus, eager for our turn – _his_ turn.

He would not be denied.

Rising at my name, I took to the impromptu stage, waiting for the intermittent chatter to cease. She sat alone at a back table – our table – steepled fingers pressed to her lips, gaze expectant. She wore a red dress tonight, a strapless thing coated with dark lace not unlike spider webs. I could not fathom why she chose such attire for tonight, nor why she stared at me that way.

Could she sense it?

'_Look at nothing but her_.' He pressed, silky voice slipping through my ears. '_Make her understand_.'

I made no promises, though my gaze rested upon her as the crowd fell silent, expectant stares fixed upon me. "Sonnet XVII, by Pablo Neruda."

Her brows rose and a determined hush ensnared the cafe, all ears eager for something they'd never heard before.

Taking a short breath, I began:

_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

Surprise lit her eyes, tinged with confusion and a small delight. Licking my lips, I braced for the inevitable: her ire, a calloused eye; memorizing the next lines before meeting her gaze.

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

Taking a pause appropriate for the sonnet's pace, I braced myself, ready for her judgment, that guarded look I knew so well. Yoko appeared to wait for something too though for what, I could not tell. He watched her with a tenacity I'd never witnessed from him, peering from the edges of his confines; I felt he would crawl through my eyes at any moment.

Azumi's face remained free of emotion, however, her thoughts lofty things I could not hope to know.

_I love you as the plant that never blooms_

_but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_

_thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_

_risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

I tasted the sincerity of the words, the poet's passion for his lover and, in part, Yoko's sentiments toward her. Had he not changed since seeing her that first night, upon this very stage? I'd witnessed his anger before, regret over the loss of his partner Kuronoe, his patience for the kill; never before Azumi had I seen his good humor, voice tinged with happiness at the smallest things and, also, a great sadness which at times threatened to consume him, the source of which I could not apprehend. He held his feelings close but I knew them regardless, the same way one could see someone through a window even if the glass were filthy. Yoko cared for her as only he could:

With a purity only demons possessed.

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._

_I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_

_so I love you because I know no other way_

Desperation tinged my tone, fed from his lips, his tongue. For the first time, I felt his pain; the indescribable sensation of loving someone who could not love you back.

Yearning for someone who did not know you exist.

_than this: where I does not exist, nor you,_

_so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,_

_so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep._

Applause painted the air and I gave a short bow, slipping from the stage while taking the long way back to the table. Azumi never retracted her stare during the segment, though I could not tell what danced within that gaze, fingers hiding her lips, chin tucked. Even Yoko did not pretend to know her mind, though his anxiety sang through my veins, an emotion I was sure would never register on him outwardly. His heart pounded in my throat even as he scolded himself for acting like a lovelorn kit, unable to keep his thoughts from her for long.

Regardless, I'd done my part:

Now all we could do was wait.

A/N: Inktober prompt – dark; _Hey You_, Kurama's POV


	27. Prompt 27 A Thick Coat

This couldn't be real.

An illusion, an image conjured from the frazzled edges of my mind. Crossing an alley close to my apartment building, I didn't worry about the late hour or living in the bad part of town. Most knew me here, knew I would mess their world up if they tried anything stupid. I never worried about things like personal safety or keeping away from the shadows, things that drove Shuichi crazy but I laughed off:

At least, I had until tonight.

A strangled cry pierced through _The Devil's Trill_ and I paused, pocketing the headphones before investigating. I'd seen too many quips turned violent not to act, too many men who thought the answers to all their problems lay in hitting a woman. The snow did little to conceal my movements but I used every bit of stealth I had, creeping into the alley, ducking between this and that trash heap. A loud 'pop' followed by a puff of smoke and I sunk further into the cowl at my throat, counting silently to three before peeking around a ruined cardboard box.

Standing in the ankle-deep snow was a man, a man with familiar red hair and paper-pale skin. His being under-dressed for the weather didn't bother me, or his being out way past his bedtime. No, what concerned me was the crimson dripping down his arm, coating his stomach, twisting his mouth into a pained grimace. His gaze held a sheen I'd never seen before – frosted, lofty, predatory – though he wasn't looking at me. Rather, he stared at the wall before him, watching smoke curl from the bricks with muted satisfaction.

"Shuichi?"

He started, eyes widening as he turned to find me. For a second, I thought I saw a rose in his hand but the next instant, it was gone, replaced instead by a red-dyed palm and fingers. "Azumi–"

The breathless voice drew me from the poor shelter, taking in his injuries one by one. How was he still standing? How much blood had he lost? "What happened?"

Shuichi opened his mouth but I shook my head, stepping closer. "Forget it, we need to get you to the hospital–"  
"No!" I started though his exclamation seemed to surprise him as well for he lowered his gaze, stepping out of my reach while pressing a hand to his stomach. "Really, that isn't necessary."

"Isn't nec–" My jaw clenched without permission, grinding til my teeth hurt. "Did you get hit on the head? Can't you see you need help?"

Before he could respond, however, another voice filled the air. "Kurama!"

We both spun to see a guy about Shuichi's age at the other end of the alley. Black mop dripping into his eyes, he stood half a head higher than me, a thin kid with an expectant air about him, a tough customer if I'd ever seen one. Chest heaving, clearly out of breath, he gripped the corner of his brown leather jacket, glancing between the two of us before his eyes lit upon the wall, a curse falling from his lips.

Face flushed, his white sneakers squeaked against the snow as he strode to Shuichi's side, grabbing the coated arm. "C'mon man, we gotta go. _Now_!"

I wanted to protest, to ask who this stranger was and how they knew each other but that look entered Shuichi's eyes again and he looked at me, something close to sadness tinging that rough emerald.

Then they were gone, fleeing down to the other street, leaving muddled snow in their wake.

Inktober prompt – coat; _Hey You_, Azumi's POV


	28. Prompt 28 Save a Boat, Ride a Kelpie

I couldn't stop my stare as the waves rose in tandem at Tourrin's western shore, foaming water soaking my cousin's legs to the knee. Still, Yusuke continued to whistle, a shrill sound erupting from the bone instrument at his lips, far too high-pitched for human ears. The sound didn't reach Kuwabara; he paid no mind to my flinch or Hiei pressing both palm over sensitive drums. No, his gaze remained fixed to the horizon, following the Oni's proud grin.

Another note and the ocean buckled, great green tongues rising and falling and still Yusuke blew, not satisfied until a tempest rose at his back, pushing the waves farther and farther until they towered above by thirty feet. Only then did he allow the strange flute to fall against his bare chest, arms crossing as the air grew thick and warm, a heat not native to this land. I stepped after him unconsciously, thinking only of demanding what he was about–

The whinny carried forth by the wind changed all that.

First, eyes shone through the water wall, bright as fish scales and just as round. Nostrils emerged next, flaring from proud snouts and spewing moisture. Glossy blue bodies tinged with every cool shade imaginable came then, muscle cording each creature's legs, sides heaving, mouths open wide to reveal sharp teeth. Inky manes flaring, the four beasts glided atop the waves on coral hooves, hair the color of seaweed and just as thick. Only when they reached Yusuke did they stop, each rearing back in a valiant effort to cease their race, effectively wetting us all.

Yusuke laughed as one of the beings dipped its head, pressing a thick muzzle into his waiting hand. The top of his head barely brushed that green chest, despite his impressive height.

"W-what the heck is _that_?" Kuwabara stammered, the first to regain his voice.

"What, never seen a kelpie before?"

At last, I tore my gaze from the towering creatures to stare at my cousin, noting the calming of the waves. "Kelpies?"

"Yeah, kelpies – water horses." He tutted as one nipped at his hair while another took his plaid in its mouth, intent on pulling the garment from his body. "They've served the Urameshi clan for a long time, way longer than we've held the throne. Could'a sworn I told you that."

I watched in mute wonder as he showered each horse with attention, petting waiting muzzles, nearly jumping from his skin when one bit his buttocks. Four pairs of clear eyes never left their Prince, expressions inscrutable, though all longed for his attention, his touch.

I'd never seen anything like it.

Treading with care, Hiei came to my side, hands resting on either pommel. "You said you knew a way to reach Alaric without a boat."

"I do." Laughter as one great nose nudged his back, pushing him against the stout leg of another.

Hiei frowned, though my companion had never been known for his patience. "How then?"

Yusuke smirked, patting the mane of the kelpie who he'd first touched. "Simple, we ride these."

A choking sound and Kuwabara paled, not having yet ventured from the sand. "Are you crazy? There's no way you expect us to ride those things!"

"Why not? It's just like riding any other horse – they're just bigger." A puff of air at his back and Yusuke reached blindly to ruffle an offered mane, cooing in his native tongue. "Long as you don't do anything stupid, you'll be fine."

I raised a brow as he picked his steed, prodding each in turn. "Define stupid."

"I dunno, squeeze em too tight, beat em, pull their hair?" He mounted his choice with a single leap, a blue-skinned stallion with flowing dark hair. "Just treat em like a horse and not a woman and you'll be just fine."

A/N: Inktober prompt – ride; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV


	29. Prompt 29 Fractured Princess

Friendly banters, children laughing, along with the occasional puttering of cars several years out of style. Each sound – none of which could be heard in Mushiyori – swam into my ears, carried by the mountain breeze.

I could see why my agent wanted me to spend some time off here.

Suddenly, a woman's shriek shredded the tranquil atmosphere, cushioned by the tell-tale tinkling of shattered glass. My feet moved on their own, carrying me around the outstretched arms of a squat shop before screeching to a halt. A small crowd gathered around a woman and three men, faces sharing equal measures of shock and steely-eyed resolve.

"But why now?"

"It can't be helped."

"She's never hurt anyone!"

Hushed whispers ground against my skin as I inched forward, calculated nudges parting flesh sea. What I first took to be a woman was in fact a girl, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. A tiny thing, she appeared otherworldly in her pale yukata, mint fronds spilling from her scalp to embrace her torso. Skin painted a milky hue, she stared first at the red ribbon on the ground – one which matched her cinched obi – and the ruined grocery bag at her feet, broken jars, egg shells, and countless other things seeping into the sun-worn brick. When she raised her gaze, I finally saw the red-rimmed cut beneath a ruby iris, the tainted rock at her side–

The disgusting grins on the men's faces before her.

"Didn't we warn you last time, sweet heart?"

This from the one in front, the one who casually played catch with another rock as he spoke. Thick arms burgeoning from a black tank-top, he raked his other hand through bleached locks, anything to keep attention away from his chicken legs. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes though they did nothing to hide his glee, lips peeling in a smile revealing cigarette-stained teeth. The two at his back were nothing to write home about: the one on the left a big boy in denim and a gray sweatshirt with a bat; the other incredibly gaunt, as if his body never learned to build muscle, dressed in corduroy despite the heat. He carried no weapon and watched on with a vacant look; I couldn't help wondering why he was even here.

"We don't want your kind here. Remember us talking about that?" Blondie grinned, catching the bouncing rock only to grip it in a ready fist. "I told you what'd happen if you came back."

Her brow knit at that, anxiety pulling at both lips as she took in the spilled liquids cresting to touch her sandaled feet, soaking stocking toes instantly. "Please, I don't want any trouble–"

"You should've thought about that before." He sneered, jaw ticking. The two at his back chuckled, flunkies content with their roles as nameless bulk. "Help me out here, baby: weren't you here with someone else before, big guy with a loud mouth and a stupid haircut?" Surprise parted her lips and he grinned, hand sliding across a bony hip. "Maybe we should take this up with _him_. He's your guard dog, isn't he?"

At this, doe eyes hardened and all fear fled her face, leaving us staring at a wall of ice. Mouth set, she knelt over the muck of ruined groceries, intent on salvaging what she could.

However, as soon as her glare left him, sunglasses stepped forward, stomping mercilessly on the sorting hand.

She stifled a scream when he pressed her palm against glass slivers, the sound morphing into a spirited exhale. Rather than cower, she glanced up with cool indifference, though not quickly enough to see the next blow.

The bat struck her porcelain mask, colliding with both ear and cheekbone with a sold 'crack'. A woman at my side gasped as the girl fell, face swelling immediately as blood welled in her ear, dying virgin hair red. White rage flashed and waned in my veins when she fought to rise, pained sounds fleeing her mouth as he put all his weight on her hand.

He raised the bat again and suddenly I was between them, catching the descending weapon in a cross-block before securing his wrist, landing swift kicks to both his extended knee and abdomen. Blondie hobbled back with a cry, releasing the bat to clutch at his stomach. The other two stared as I slipped into a ready stance, left leg sliding back perpendicular with my right, one arm raised level with my chin, the other chambered at my side.

Senseless expletives from sunglasses and I glanced back at the girl, noting her turtle pace in rising. I didn't ask if she was alright – her bleeding ear and inflated face were answer enough – though the fact that she stood on her own was comforting.

It made my job easier.

"W-what's your problem, lady?" Blondie spat, nursing his knee while trying to appear menacing, chicken legs swaying ever so slightly. "Who do you think you are?"

I raised a brow, leather jacket creaking as I tightened my stance. "Just a stranger on holiday." My eyes found her again, noted her concern, her disorientation. "And I don't have a problem – I just can't stand dickheads like you."

He ground his jaw, nostrils flaring. "What'd you say?"

"Are you deaf on top of sexist?" I chuckled, ignoring Minamino's knowing look as it flashed through my mind's eye. "Or are you just racist?"

A beat passed and his anger grew, coloring his face. "You telling me you consider _them_ people?"

"That was the consensus according to world leaders." I smirked, watching thing one and thing two ready themselves. "Or do you guys not watch the news?"

Blondie stilled then, something cold replacing his wrath. "Don't tell me you're a _demon lover?_"

"I don't love or hate them. Demons always have been and always will be here, something someone like you will never understand."

At some unknown signal, Big Boy and Sticky charged, Blondie hanging back to watch. I blocked two poorly aimed punches from long arms, feet tracing a semi-circle as I stepped into fatty's range. When he struck, I stepped aside, grabbing his wrist and propelling him forward with his own momentum, a guiding hand at his elbow. This resulted in his crashing into his buddy, the two collapsing in a befuddled pile. Neither tried to rise.

"S-Stop!" The girl cried, voice tender as as dove's wail. "Please stop!"

I hesitated and Blondie took advantage of that, landing a solid hit to my chin. My head snapped back as my teeth rattled, forcing me to retreat. His feet sounded against the glass littering the street and I tensed my abdomen, taking the punch to the stomach willingly. Blondie grinned but he didn't count on my grabbing his arm, cementing him in place, When he moved to strike with the other fist I lashed at his leg, kicking the abused knee.

He cried out and I let go, retreating with my back pressed firmly against her. The girl trembled, though whether from fear or pain, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that her breaths came faster now, moistening my neck with each pass.

I needed to end this quickly.

Thankfully, the choice was made for me. "Yukina!"

A shocked baritone sounded and I turned, watching the crowd part. A giant of a man stood several meters away, overflowing bags nothing more than children's toys in his hands. Denim pants hugged taut legs while a yellow t-shirt did its best to hide a barrel chest and gorilla arms, fabric yawning with steadily shallow breaths. Orange hair that'd been brown in one life crowned his head in a bold pompadour, a unicorn's horn or thoughtfully embedded sword marking a majestic creature.

Said creature's face quickly morphed from shock to horror as he took in the scene before him, setting the groceries down with care before rushing to us in four long strides. "Baby, what happened?" He demanded as he knelt at her side, an action I allowed given his concern. "Are you–?"

Words failed as she flinched at his touch, his having unintentionally grabbed her injured hand. Unicorn's mouth fell open as he took in the blood coating his fingers, the savage cuts and crushed bones of her right hand, the side of her face now hopelessly purple, the red leaking from one ear. "Yukina–"

"It's not as bad as it looks." She assured quietly, smiling despite the inflammation marring her cheek. "Are you ready to go?"

"Ready to–" He grit his teeth, hands flailing with the desire to touch her but stayed by the fear of hurting her more. "Baby, what happened? Who–"

"Please," She whispered, the first hint of pain tainting her tongue as she gripped his shirt with her good hand. "Take me home, Kazuma. I want to go _home_."

Anything he may have felt became swallowed by cold anger as he took in my stance, gaze roving to the men who'd risen once again. "Which one of you did it?"

His tone was low, dangerous; one I'd heard countless times on a movie set but never in real life. "Which one of you _scumbags_ hurt Yukina?"

"Kazuma, please–"

"The guy with the sunglasses." He glanced my way and I nodded toward Blondie, who'd grown exceedingly pale at this _Kazuma'_sarrival. "He ground her hand in glass shards then hit her with that bat." His beady eyes raced to the man's blood-flecked shoe and the bat lying a few feet away, face darkening further. "I got a few hits in but three on one isn't easy, even on a good day. Besides, didn't want them getting to the princess again."

Here he grunted, motioning me back with a grizzly hand. "Thanks, I've got it from here." He muttered, glancing once more at the girl – no, _Yukina_. "Mind staying with her? This'll only take a sec."

I nodded, retreating to Yukina's side. "Sure, knock 'em out."

He smirked and cracked his knuckles, though the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "I intend to."

A/N: Inktober prompt – injured; _Hey You_, Azumi's POV


	30. Prompt 30 How to Catch a Prince

"Oi, already told ye it's nothin' personal!"

Yusuke sat muttering to himself, glare rising from the wooden planks to our captors. Chu grinned, swaying with the boat as it coursed downstream. Sun-bleached trousers billowing in the breeze, his cheer would have proven infectious at any other time, any other place–

Anything besides our current circumstances.

Kuwabara and Hiei lay between the two of us, still lost to sleep. Hands bound behind their backs, both men's temples remained swollen from the blows that had brought us here, purple lumps erupting from thick bangs. My own head swam as I watched them, migraine brewing from the striking point at the base of my skull. How had our journey diverted so, escalated to the point of violence, kidnapping?

They'd found us at an inn close to the border, settling in for the night. Yusuke bested Kuwabara in a few games of bones while Hiei and I watched, sipping cider, nearly ready to travel upstairs to sleep.

The three of them came then, shaking the rain from their cloaks, two making more than enough racket for the third who remained silent. An Oni far taller than my cousin could ever hope to be lumbered to the bar, placing an order for some dreadful drink. Cheeks rosy already, he spun to face us on stuttering legs, legs thick with muscle as was his arms. Incredibly lean, he wore a fringed jerkin, thick boots, and the dark trousers of a sailor spotted here and there by light. Horns the width of my forearm curled from his temples, perfectly rounded just above the shoulder, vying for attention with the mow-hawk dyed blue with berries topping his head.

Too ready to introduce himself, the Oni gave his name as Chu, motioning to his companions while spouting off 'Jin' and 'Touya', to which they nodded acquiescence. Fiery mop fluttering about his head, Jin came to Yusuke's table with the taller man, more than willing to engage in friendly banter. A hairsbreadth taller than my cousin, Jin bore his loose white garments well, heedless of the stares his grin bearing two sets of sharp teeth gleaned. Scratching at the spire spilling not unlike a horn from his forehead, I couldn't help but notice the twin ivory points rising from either cheekbone, each jutting out an inch or so. However, the slender crimson tentacles hanging from the nape of his neck – appendages twitching with life at his back – proved his origins, a lineage marked by swift gales and the loss of many men:

A Charybdis.

If Yusuke noticed anything unusual about the pair, he didn't show it. Rather, he ordered another round of whatever brew he drank for his new friends, all while Kuwabara did his best not to stare at Jin's strange features. Distrust tainted my tongue and I felt Hiei tense beside me, though he didn't watch the two at table. No, his gaze remained fixed on the man who stayed behind, leaning against the bar with arms crossed.

Touya appeared everything the other two were not. A bit taller than Hiei, his icy blue eyes glanced here and there, taking in everything and nothing. His hair creeping to the waist brought to mind the ocean, brilliant strands of blue and green blending so that his profile changed depending on the angle he turned his head. Clawed hands resting atop a nondescript tunic, I noted the fins peeking from both arms and heels, webbed ears twitching at every sound. Unlike the other two, his skin was pale, so much so that upon first glance he appeared ill, blue veins prominent upon his face and hands.

My attention veered back to his eyes and when I saw the light dancing in them, a charm which threatened to empty my senses, I knew without a doubt what he was.

To think a Vodyanoy would travel this far inland.

For a time, everything remained pleasant. The boisterous ones drank with Yusuke and Kuwabara and seemed to get on quite well, Chu being some lost kinship from his mother's side. Jin gladly showed the knight his tentacles were in fact real and, given prompting, gathered a small ball of air in his palm, a cyclone contained by his will alone.

Then, something was said of King Raizen and Yusuke became irate, cheeks burning. In no time, he and Chu were rolling from the table and onto the floor, beating each other senseless. Jin dispatched Kuwabara as he tried to rise, a swift strike to the neck leaving my friend unconscious.

So invested were we in watching the skirmish that we didn't sense movement behind us, took no thought of personal safety until cold hands touched our skin, slamming our heads together. Hiei fell in a senseless heap while I staggered, searching for words to command the seed in my hand, words which wouldn't come. Yusuke's cry came too late and fire erupted at my neck, pain arching through my head before black overtook all.

Thus how we came to be in a long boat in the middle of the night.

"That was dirty and you know it."

Chu laughed at Yusuke's dark remark, taking another swig from the flask at his hip. "Aye but it had to be done. Would ye've come otherwise?"

My cousin sunk into his shoulders, back digging into the mast to which he was bound. "What do you want with us, anyway? What couldn't you ask me for as your Prince?"

"'s not you we want but him." Jin offered, tipping his head in my direction. I watched as he grinned, the moon reflecting off those many teeth. "Got a bounty on 'is head, he does!"

Chu had the nerve to appear sheepish, glancing at Yusuke. "It's true, mate, someone wants your man bad, bad enough to hire us. Don't worry though, we'll drop you blokes off before we take him to Alaric."

I felt my eyes widen. "Alaric?"

"Chu, choose your words carefully." Touya's silken voice filled the air, soft and brittle as snowflakes. "We're still under contract."

"Oh, right, right." He chuckled, rubbing at one horn. "Sorry abou' that."  
Only then did I realize Hiei was awake. He gave no hints to this – didn't open his eyes or twitch a finger – but still I knew. Breaths only slightly swifter than when he slept, I knew he heard every word and was even then debating a solution, much as I was. Kuwabara lay awake too, one eye cracked open to peer at me.

For a moment, I wondered if Yusuke knew the state of our companions. Such would explain his dialogue, his drawing their attention to himself through conversation rather than petty insults they would wave off. Alaric, the Lonely Kingdom cut off from the world by its own power. Somehow, someone in Alaric knew of our journey, as well as the path we were following. Whoever this individual might be, they wanted me and me alone, thus the word 'bounty'–

A Prince's ransom.

"Don' worry, the Prince won't be hurt." Jin offered at Yusuke's sour look.

"Yeah, bloke just wan's te talk to him, line the pockets a bit. What's wrong with that?"

What, indeed? I had no knowledge of anyone from Alaric, nor what such a person would want with me. All I knew was that we had to escape these three. If they succeeded in making it to shore, spiriting me away while leaving my companions behind:

I would never see my homeland again.

A/N: Inktober prompt – catch; _The Whipping Boy_, Kurama's POV


	31. Prompt 31 Ripe for the Picking

"And you're sure this is okay?"

I smiled, ushering her inside before closing the door. The dimly lit interior of the botanical gardens stretched before us, each thoughtful frond maintaining a mysterious air in the forced twilight. Various ferns and dense bushes yawned in their beds, well-groomed trees content with their pots, colorful flower buds shut tight. She said she'd never had much of a green thumb and even though she loved flora, work and other obligations kept her visiting places such as this. When I told her of the event and saw sorrow entrench her face, the rise and fall of a tentative hope, I could not stand idle.

She deserved so much more than I could offer.

"Of course." The soft tone surprised my own ears as I turned, locking us in with a set of keys procured for the purpose. "Haven't I said as much?"

"Yeah, but don't you only work here part-time?" She tipped back on her heels, caught somewhere between joy and trepidation. "Why would your boss–"

"Management is more lenient than you think." Stopping at her side, I offered her my arm, which she took with some reservation. I felt the long-sleeved dress must surely be stifling – the thermostat remained set at a balmy temperature year-round – though she didn't complain, nor did she comment on my thin buttoned shirt. Thick stockings cascaded down her legs, their descent halted only by the black loafers encasing her feet. As always, Azumi appeared oblivious to my gaze as she took in the sprawling jungle, a vision in black I carefully locked away.

The rustling of a fringed leaf and I glared at the plant, urging Yoko to behave.

"I honestly thought they'd all be gone by now."

I hummed as we turned down one path, scarlet brushes and peppered grass dotting either side of the walkway. "Most could care less about the environment, or flora in general."

She sucked in a breath as we rounded another corner and stopped. The room stretched for several yards – nearly the length of the building itself – the borders of which were dotted with flowers including petunias, tiger lilies, and sunflowers. A large square took up the majority of the space, the path traveling neatly around its perimeters. Within those well-tended confines rested different patches of berries: strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, and mulberries, to name a few. Through careful planning and cultivation, each plant existed side-by-side, eagerly bearing fruit for the onlooker's eye as well as for school children's field trips:

Fruit ripe for the picking.

Eyes having not quite returned to their normal shape, Azumi swallowed, looking from myself to the fruit. "There's so much!"

I chuckled at her hushed exclamation, the happiness even now bleeding into her gaze. "Whatever is not harvested by visitors is either recycled or given to local kitchens so please, take as much as you want."

She accepted the proffered bag, a simple cloth sack, with measured slowness, raising those wide, wide eyes to stare at me. We'd grown past the point of distrust though she still did not know quite what to make of me, and I dared not fancy I understood her mind. I simply knew she loved flowers and the thought of fresh fruit made her smile. That was my motivation, if I had to pen one:

I simply wanted to see her smile.

Gray gaze softening, she squeezed my arm before letting go, walking to the lush patches without further prompting. Much of the evening passed in this way, her choosing fruit carefully, frugally, leaving more than enough for the causes I listed. At one point, she pressed a strawberry to my lips without warning, teeth glinting in a grin, laughing at my surprise even after I sucked the berry from her fingers. Adding to her collection whenever her back was turned, I spent the time watching her, the curve of her back, thighs peeking between skirt and stockings, hair falling from behind her ears to cover all but her eyes. Possibly a less than legal venture, but a fulfilling one all the same.

I'd experienced worse first dates.

A/N: Inktober prompt – ripe; _Hey You_; Kurama's POV

And that wraps up this year's prompts! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed these snippets!


End file.
